Til The Very End
by Potato19
Summary: Continuation of the story 'Hold You Up.' Following Dumbledore's death, Harry takes it upon himself to finish what his Headmaster started. With the expertise of his ever-wise girlfriend, Hermione, and his red-headed best friend, Ron; he embarks on the hunt for the Horcruxes, invariably discovering far more than he could have ever dreamed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: Note that this is a Harry/Hermione pairing. It is a continuation of my first story, Hold You Up, after a substantial time jump.

The story begins from the last scene in the movie HBP, when the Golden Trio are on the viewing deck after the death of Dumbledore. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1

In the hours leading up to his decision to continue - or rather, begin - the hunt for the Horcruxes, two notable things happened to Harry Potter. The first was that he discovered and now believed that he had a way to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. And the second, more morbid than the other, was the death of his mentor and guide, Albus Dumbledore. It had turned an otherwise delightful year into one shadowed in the darkness of death. What was worse, Harry believed, was that he had stood idly by and witnessed the man who had spent years tormenting him cast that Unforgivable Spell at the one man with all the answers. Harry was quite certain he would never be able to close his eyes again and not see the blinding green light.

Harry was angry. With Dumbledore, with Snape, with Draco, and with all those death eaters... but really, he was angry with himself. He had done nothing. Nothing. He absolutely hated that word. And the hardest thing to accept was that it had all been for naught. The mysterious thing he and Dumbledore had gone in search of turned out to be nothing more than a store-bought replica. He turned the locket he now knew to be a Horcrux over in his hands, disgusted with the fact that it wasn't even real. They had battled and Dumbledore had died for something so useless, Harry may as well have thrown it out into the water below him.

It took Hermione coming up behind him to stop him from acting on his thoughts. She moved to stand beside him, looking out from the edge of the viewing deck. She, like him, didn't say anything for a long time, choosing rather to put her hand over his on the rail in front of them. Then, in a steady voice, she asked the question: "Do you think he would have done it? Draco?"

Of course, Harry knew she was referring to the murder of their Headmaster. "No," Harry answered, breathing out as he did. "No, he was lowering his wand. In the end, it was Snape. It was always Snape." He took a breath, gathering himself. "And I did nothing."

Hermione looked at him, wanting to say something. Anything. But the words wouldn't come. She was feeling her own grief at Dumbledore's death, so she could only imagine what he was feeling. From the defeated look on his face, she had to know that the guilt he felt was vastly outweighing the fact that their Headmaster was gone forever.

Harry could tell she wanted to comfort him, but he wasn't sure he deserved it. So, to stop her, he handed her the faux Horcrux and said the painful words. "It's fake." He closed his eyes for a prolonged moment, forcing the hopelessness away. "Open it." Then he watched as her slender fingers worked the latch and it split open, revealing a folded piece of parchment.

Hermione sneaked a look at him before she unfolded and started to read the locket's contents. "'To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.'" She took a breath. "'I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.'" Her fingers ran over the written initials before she looked at Harry. "R.A.B?"

He shook his head, looking particularly defeated. "Don't know. But whoever they are, they have the real Horcrux." That was when he noticed Ron sitting on the steps behind them, silently listening to their exchange. He managed a slight nod. "Which means it was all a waste. All of it."

Ron tried to smile reassuringly but the sides of his mouth faltered halfway there. The red-head definitely wasn't one used to faking it.

Hermione turned to look out at the water again. There were things she wished she could say but the words weren't coming. When Harry returned to his initial position as well, he had a determined look on his face. Hermione knew it well. Whatever he was about to say; she probably wouldn't like it.

He cleared his throat, preparing himself. "I'm not coming back, Hermione," he said strongly. "I've got to finish whatever Dumbledore started. And I don't know where that'll lead me but I'll let you and Ron know where I am when I can."

It took quite a lot of will power for her not to punch him in the arm. Now was not the time. Instead, she took a breath and lifted her head. "I've always admired your courage, Harry, but sometimes you can be really thick."

He just stared at her. That was definitely not what he expected her to say.

"You don't really think you're going to be able to find all those Horcruxes by yourself, do you? Or that I would even let you?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say. The part of him that wanted him with her through it all was being overpowered by the part that wanted to keep her safe. It was hard being in love with someone during an out and out war, and he was certain he could never get over something ever happening to her.

"You need me, Harry. You need both of us."

Harry shook his head, turning his body to face her. "I can't ask you to do that."

She turned to face him as well, equally - if not more - determined. "Good. Then don't ask. You don't need to." She stepped towards him before she placed a soft kiss against his lips. "I'll always go with you, Harry. 'Til the very end."

He didn't know why he smiled. It appeared for barely a moment. Worry took over his features, and she read what he was thinking. What if Ron wouldn't go with them? As if on cue, their heads both turned to face Ron who was still sitting on the step.

"Well, don't mind me," Ron said, rising to his feet. "You'd think I would be used it by now," he added, exaggerating a shudder.

Hermione felt a certain burn in her cheeks as she stepped away from Harry, and towards the approaching Ron. "I assume you heard everything," she said matter-of-factly. "This is something we have to do."

Ron nodded. "It definitely is."

Harry needed to hear it. "Is that your way of saying you're coming with us?" he asked carefully.

The silence that followed carried a lot of weight. The trio stood facing one another, unspoken words rolling around in the spaces among them. Harry had already decided. He would go in search of the pieces of Voldemort if it was the only way to defeat him. There really was no other option. With Dumbledore gone, it really was up to him, which was a weight with which he was willing to burden himself.

Hermione had decided as well. As uncertain as the task was, there really was no other option for her. Selfishly or not, she just could not let Harry do this alone. She needed him, and he needed her. She had said it many times in the years they'd known each other: together, they could do it all. With the three of them... She halted. Ron hadn't yet said anything.

Ron was quiet right until the moment Harry and Hermione's eyes settled on him again. It happened at the same time, as if their subconscious minds decided together. He'd always envied their wavelength, especially when it led to his being left out of the _conversation_ , but he slowly grew to accept it. His two best friends were built for each other. That much had become apparent in the last few months. Better yet, years.

"Ron?" Harry eventually asked, his voice soft and unassuming. The truth was that he wasn't sure he could handle having to do all of this without either one of him. He was just glad he hadn't actually had to admit it. Hermione could read it in his facial expressions, as she usually did.

"Harry," Ron said, quietly asking for another moment to think about what his friend was proposing. The last thing he wanted was to leave his family in the aftermath of Dumbledore's death. And Lavender. How could he leave her in all of this?

"I know it's a big decision," Harry said calmly. "I wouldn't dream of asking you to leave your family, or Lavender," he continued, as if he were reading his friend's mind. "I know I'm not giving up as much as you are, but know this, Ron, that we... _I_ couldn't do this without you. I couldn't have done any of this without you."

Ron kept his eyes on his male best friend, trying to figure out if Harry was just saying what he thought Ron wanted to hear. That truth didn't come to light. From the look on his face and his clenched fists in anticipation; Ron could tell that Harry meant his words. Even so, it really was what Ron wanted, needed to hear. His face broke out into a wide smile. "Is this weird?" he asked, pointing at his own smile. "I mean, I get that what we're about to do is super dangerous and what not, but what you're really saying is that we're not going to be coming back to school. Get that: no school."

Hermione had to laugh at that, even as she shook her head. "Trust you to see the silver lining in all of this."

"Platinum lining, Hermione. I'm tired of playing third fiddle to your and Harry's Outstandings every time all the time. Being Acceptable has never sounded more average, you know. I've already got hoards of other Weasleys to contend with, you know."

Harry risked a smile. "So you're coming?"

He nodded. "Somebody has to bring excitement to this little trio. You two are like the same person in two bodies."

Hermione looked from Ron to Harry. "Did you hear that? He practically called us soul mates."

Ron's eyes widened. "Oh gosh, please just don't kiss again."

The three of them shared a laugh, before the reality of their lives and recent decision descended on them. It took the humour right out of the situation. They weren't about to take a vacation, as if they would enjoy their time away. No. They were going on the run, to hunt down and destroy the Horcruxes that made up the pieces of Voldemort's soul. If that didn't scare them even the slightest, then they weren't human. It didn't matter that they all embodied the courage and bravery of Gryffindor. They were still children after all. Sixteen was too young to face a task so dangerous and unpredictable.

But then again, Harry had been facing death since he could remember. He had been fighting for a decent life from the moment Voldemort had made him an orphan. And for a moment, Harry had almost reached the type of life for which he could only have hoped. Having Hermione beside him, his life had come as close as to the kind of excitingly boring he wished it was.

Harry took hold of her hand and led them back towards the edge of the viewing deck. They looked out at the beauty of Hogwarts. This place was more of his home than any other place he had encountered. He couldn't stop himself from wondering if this would be the last time he would see it. And, if he did ever see it again, would it still be this peaceful, this serene?

"I've never realised how beautiful this place is," Harry said softly, cutting into the silence.

Hermione just squeezed his hand in response, not wanting to say anything.

Ron cleared his throat behind them, making both Harry and Hermione turn back to him. Ron was grinning, even though he looked a bit fearful.

"All right, Ron?" Harry asked, confused over his friend's expression.

"Well, Harry, I was just thinking that if you get to take your girlfriend along, surely I should as well." He said it seriously, even though he was still smiling. Before Harry could say anything - not that he actually knew what he would say - Ron spoke again. "I'm kidding, of course. I'd never ask to bring Lavender along." He seemed to think about it. "She'll totally understand."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried look.

"She'll understand," Ron repeated. nodding his head. "Right?"

Hermione swallowed. If they knew Lavender, she definitely wouldn't. But that really wasn't what Ron needed to hear.

"Oh, definitely."

* * *

The yelling started a few minutes after Harry and Hermione left Ron at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. They had wished him good luck before sending him off to have the conversation with Lavender it was clear he was deeply dreading. They were certain the noise could be heard from the highest tower in the castle. Even the various portraits on the walls looked particularly worried.

"We should save him," Hermione said, as she and Harry sat on the steps of a changing staircase, waiting for their friend to emerge, hopefully, unscathed.

Harry had to admit that he was quite enjoying the motion. It almost allowed him to forget that the rest of the world was happening. Sitting there, drifting steadily, with Hermione so close; that was a life he would have enjoyed.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. Then, with the yelling increasing in volume, she said: "We should definitely save him."

Harry risked a smile at her worry. It was actually quite adorable. "You do realise that Lavender would just transfer her anger to both of us, right? Nobody is going to be happy about this. We'll have to bear our own disgruntled patrons by the time the day is up. Your parents included."

That thought seemed to halt her breathing. Her parents. What would she tell them? What could she tell them? In no universe, muggle or magical, would parents allow their only daughter to go hunting for Horcruxes, while fighting off death eaters left, right and centre. Better yet, she was almost sure her parents wouldn't allow her to travel _alone_ \- though not quite - with her boyfriend. Her parents really were muggles after all.

The thought almost made her smile. But then, the thought of her parents anywhere near this war was a sobering one. For a moment, Hermione allowed herself to think about what she already knew she would do; what she had to do. In that moment, her heart rate picked up. It was enough for her to realise that it was going to take a lot out of her to work up the courage to actually do it.

Well, she could have always asked Harry to do it, but she knew that he could never know. It would just add to the guilt he was constantly carrying with him.

The sound of running feet ripped her from her thoughts. She turned to see Ron suddenly stop at the top of the stairs, face red with panic. "You think maybe we could leave, like, right now?" he hurried.

Before either Harry or Hermione could react, Lavender appeared behind Ron. She looked livid. And hurt.

"I hope you're happy," Lavender said to Harry and Hermione, her voice sounding broken. "You both thought we'd never last, and I was so happy every time Ron and I proved you wrong." She stepped back. "But I suppose you really were right all along." And then she was walking away, leaving the Golden Trio in stunned silence.

Hermione recovered first, asking the question. "You _broke_ _up_ with her?" she asked, rather incredulously. "Why would you do that?"

Ron started to descend the staircase as he spoke. "Well, she wasn't seeing reason. She said she wouldn't let me go. She said I had to choose. You would think that wanting to save the Wizarding world would be a turn-on, but she all but lost it when I told her that I had already decided, and she just had to accept it."

Harry grimaced.

"Right," Ron said, acknowledging Harry's expression. "Poor choice of words, wasn't it? I always knew that one was mental but asking me to choose between saving the world with my two best friends and staying here to see out the end of our days in my Lavender bubble should have been a no-brainer."

Once he was seated on his own step, Harry spoke. "I'm really sorry, Ron. This was the last thing I wanted to happen."

Ron raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh really?"

Harry nodded. "I swear. I thought it might, but that doesn't mean I wanted it."

Ron just sighed. "So I'm newly single," he said, shrugging his shoulders in acceptance. "Maybe I'll meet someone at the wedding."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.

Ron paled. "No? Tell me we're going to wait to leave until at least after the wedding. Right?"

Harry knew they would need some time to get their affairs in order before they left. He just wasn't sure they would need _that_ much time. But that wasn't what Ron or Hermione needed to hear.

"Oh, definitely."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry hated waiting. It was a pet hate that developed at an early age. He supposed it was partly because he was easily annoyed by anything and everything to do with the Dursleys. But really, it was probably because he was born impatient, as Hermione repeatedly pointed out to him. He was inclined to agree with her, especially in the days leading up to the night he could finally leave Privet Drive and never look back.

He had hated spending parts of the penultimate summer with his blood _relatives_. The only thing that made the entire situation better was that they genuinely seemed to be afraid of him. Being able to just look at Dudley and have him squirm brought about a certain satisfaction of which he should have been ashamed.

Harry told them that they were right to be scared, but not of him. Even the muggles could tell that something ominous was among them. The sky was darker and the atmosphere felt heavier. Something was coming. The Dursleys were right to leave; to accept protection from what was surely to come. Sooner or later, the brewing forces were going to come face to face, and only one would survive.

Or neither would.

Harry shuddered at the thought just before the doorbell to the empty house rang. It was time. He couldn't help but feel slightly giddy. As soon as he opened the door, Mad Eye Moody pushed right past him, almost knocking him over. The person behind him barely gave him time to register who it was before he was wrapped in a bone-crushing hug. Hermione. Of course Hermione.

People endlessly piled into the house; some of which Harry didn't even know. It just didn't sit right with him having so many people risk their lives for him. It was hard enough watching the people he cared about willingly agree to such a dangerous undertaking, let alone strangers.

Mad Eye was curt with his instructions, giving very little wriggling room in his plan to get Harry safely to the Burrow. It seemed almost fool-proof. It should have been, had all the pieces fell into place. The ambush was shocking to say the least and, by the time they reached the Burrow; the aftermath of the horrific Polyjuiced journey from the empty house of the Dursley's to The Burrow took its toll on all of them. Especially Harry.

And, well, George, who would have made light of any situation.

Harry couldn't help but wear Mad Eye's death on his shoulders, merely adding to the weight he was already carrying. He lay in bed that night and he couldn't stop himself from wondering how many people would still be alive if they hadn't known him. Nobody else should have to die for him.

That made him think of Hedwig. He'd watched too many people die, but losing Hedwig felt different. It wasn't just his owl he was really mourning; it was his innocence. It was gone now. There was only one way forward; one way for all of this to end.

Waking with a start, Harry knew what he had to do. He didn't need Voldemort swimming in his mind for him to know that the hunt would always be something he had to undertake alone. The conversation he had had with Ron before they both went to sleep did nothing to help the guilt. Sure, he hadn't been the one to kill Mad Eye, but that wouldn't stop him from feeling responsible.

So, with his shoulder bag packed and a heavy heart, Harry exited the room he shared with Ron, pleased that his friend was still sleeping soundly. Creeping quietly, he made his way towards Ginny's room, where Hermione was also sleeping silently. Despite everything, he could never bring himself to leave without seeing her one last time.

Harry felt like he was invading the girls' privacy as he entered the bedroom, almost gliding across the floor. He made sure to keep his eyes on only Hermione. When he came to kneel at her bedside, he almost lost his nerve just at the sight of her. How could he leave her? How could anyone?

There were so many things he wished he could tell her, about all sorts of different things, and it pained him to think he might never get the chance to. Eventually, he settled for the only three iconic words that made sense to him in this moment. "I love you," he whispered, forcing himself to stand up again. He bent to kiss her forehead, once more breathing in and trying to memorise the wonderful Hermione smell. He wasn't sure how it was but she always seemed to smell oaky, like a worn and valuable, old book.

This was it. He had to drink it all up and force himself to remember because he had no idea when or if he would ever see her again.

As Harry turned, ready to leave, he felt warm fingers take hold of his wrist. The touch was gentle, which had him both relieved and disappointed. She wasn't supposed to wake up. He wasn't supposed to have to explain himself.

"Harry?" Hermione croaked, her eyes still blurry with sleep as she tried to sit up. "What - w, what are you doing here?" Once her eyes cleared, they settled on the bag on his back. The realisation hit her and her facial expression hardened. "You're not leaving," she stated strongly.

In the back of his mind, Harry knew never to argue with that tone of voice, but there was no time for inhibitions at this point. "I have to," he found himself saying.

Hermione sat up fully, turned and dropped her bare feet onto the floorboards. She took a breath before she rose to her feet so she could get a better look at his face. It was the only way she would be able to tell what he was really thinking. "You're not leaving," she repeated.

"I have to," he also repeated. "I can't just be here, Hermione. I'm doing nothing, when people are dying every day. I have to go."

"And we will," she assured him. "As planned. Leaving now, and alone, Harry; it's exactly what he wants. You'd be doing him a favour. Voldemort wants you vulnerable. I told you that you need us. What makes you think anything has changed?"

"I don't want anyone else to die for me, Hermione. Least of all you!" he hurried, his voice rising.

Hermione put a calming hand on his chest, silently reminding him that Ginny was sleeping in the bed some metres away from them. "Don't you get it, Harry," she whispered; "It isn't just about you anymore. It's about a lot more than you. The entire Wizarding world is under attack and you don't have to be the only person to save it. It doesn't have to be all on you. Not this time."

"But I'm the one who knows what to do, Hermione. It doesn't matter what the world thinks; Dumbledore entrusted me to see this through, and here I am sleeping comfortably in my warm bed and wasting precious time."

"Harry," she said, reaching to touch his cheek with her right hand. "We're not wasting time. We're planning. Do you even know where you would go?"

His eyes narrowed. "Does it matter? I just have to be out there, away from here. I have to be doing something."

She ran her thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. "What about the wedding?"

He got irritated quite quickly. "What is it with you and Ron and this wedding? Don't you get it, I don't care about the wedding. I'm sorry, it doesn't matter whose it is. The longer we stay here, the longer we wait; the stronger he gets. The only way to beat him is to find those Horcruxes and destroy them. How can anyone even be thinking about a celebration at a time like this? We're at war, Hermione. Do you really think that Voldemort and his Death Eaters are having a party right now?" He paused to think. "Actually, don't answer that. They probably are."

She couldn't help but be slightly amused. "Are you done?"

"Just about," he huffed.

She took a deep breath. "I know you can't see why right now, but our being here is important. It isn't about us or the war or what's to come. It's about right now. When we leave, who knows for how long we'll be gone? We don't even know where we're going or if we'll be able to contact anyone at the Burrow or Hogwarts. This is your family, and you owe it to them to stay and celebrate for what could be the last time for quite a while."

Harry felt defeated, but he concluded that she was right about at least one thing: he definitely wouldn't survive one day out there without her. Okay, maybe two.

Once she read in his eyes that he had finally accepted that he wasn't leaving, Hermione started on the straps of the bag on his back. Harry obliged by shrugging his shoulders to help the bag slide to the floor. That was the final decider. He wasn't going anywhere tonight.

"Lie with me for a while," she said, tugging on his hand.

Harry didn't have to be told twice. Just being able to hold her managed to ease his racing mind. There were very few things in the world that came remotely close to the knowledge that he was loved by someone like Hermione Granger.

"Harry?" she whispered, hot breath against his neck.

"Hmm," he sounded.

"Were you really going to leave without me?" she asked, more curiously than anything.

Harry's eyes flickered open. They were already so closely entwined under the covers that he couldn't actually see her face. "I was." That was all he would say. He didn't have to voice the reasons. She already knew them.

"Don't ever think of doing it again," she warned.

"I won't."

"Good."

That was the last they spoke before Harry closed his eyes again. For a while, he ceased to think of anything, and it was complete bliss, mainly because he could hear her breathing, and feel the beating of her heart.

* * *

Harry started awake at the sound of a girl's scream. His eyes darted around the room, moving from the groggy Hermione to the source of the sound. Ginny Weasley stood, eyes wide and face as red as her hair, staring at him in mild horror.

All she was wearing was a towel. In Harry's mind, he supposed that she hadn't noticed that he was in the room when she first woke up, which was how they found themselves in such a perilous position.

Before Harry could get a word out, the bedroom door burst open and Arthur Weasley and the twins barged in, wands at the ready. If Harry weren't beyond embarrassed, he probably would have laughed at the situation. But, at the moment, nothing was funny.

"Does someone want to tell me what is going on here?" Arthur asked, dropping his wand and eyeing Harry.

Fred and George laughed. "Oh, Dad," George said; "I think we all know what's going on here."

Arthur's hands moved to rest on his sides as he thought about what to do next. In all his years, he had never encountered a situation like this. Molly was the one who would know what to do. Eventually, his eyes settled on Harry, who was partially hidden by the body of Hermione. "Harry," he muttered. "Out of here, now." Then he turned to his daughter. "Ginny, sweetheart, maybe you should put on some clothes?"

Ginny merely glared at her father as he left, and then at her brothers, before finally glaring at Harry as he skulked out. She just about scoffed at his mumbled apology before her glare finally landed on her best friend, who was still seated on the edge of her bed.

Hermione smiled innocently. "Good morning."

"Don't you 'good morning' me, Hermione Granger," she scolded. "I was literally five seconds away from giving your boyfriend _something_ to talk about."

Hermione couldn't stop a laugh from escaping from her lips.

"It's not funny."

She rose to her feet, stretching her arms up in the air. "It is kind of funny. I mean, you have to admit that much, don't you?"

Ginny still didn't look impressed as she returned to getting dressed for the day. "Why was he in here anyway? The two of you have stayed with us before and nothing like this has ever happened."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. Lying to Ginny didn't sit right with her but then she didn't want to have to tell her that she had practically had to beg Harry not to embark on the Horcrux hunt by himself. It wasn't as if she thought Ginny wouldn't understand. In fact, she was sure any morally sound witch or wizard could understand from where Harry was coming. It was just that his struggle with his feelings of guilt, responsibility, fear, confusion, uncertainty and outright courage felt too personal to talk about with anyone other than Harry himself.

"Is that his bag?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the grey backpack at Hermione's feet.

Hermione looked down and she was painfully reminded of how close she had come to waking up to find him gone. "It is," she said. "He had a particularly bad night. I had to keep him close."

Ginny merely nodded her understanding. Everyone was feeling the loss of Mad Eye. "Well, a bit of warning would have been nice."

"Won't happen again," Hermione assured her. "I promise." She said it and she meant it. Harry wasn't going anywhere without her.

By the time Ginny and Hermione made it downstairs, everyone was already seated at the kitchen table. A certain hush fell over them when they appeared, which told them that they were definitely discussing the events of this morning. Fred and George let out a few chuckles as the girls took their places at the table, Harry standing as they did.

"Hush, boys," Molly reprimanded, looking apologetically at Hermione.

Harry returned to his seat, blatantly avoiding looking at either of the girls. He knew he would have to apologise again to Ginny at some point, and he would probably have to apologise in advance to Hermione for the endless teasing they were surely to endure. The twins had been particularly brutal on him, and he was just glad that Molly was putting a lid on it.

"Let's eat," Arthur said.

For a moment, Harry was convinced they could get through the entire meal without anyone saying anything about the antics of the morning, but he was wrong. He was very wrong. The culprit, though, was a shock to Harry. As Bill started to dish a few pieces of bacon onto his plate, he spoke.

"So, Harry, I heard you had quite an exciting morning," he said, easily dropping it into conversation.

That made the entire table erupt in uncontrollable laughter, bar Harry and Hermione. Ginny tried to hold off as long as she could, but it really was quite funny. Harry could feel himself turning red, and he could just imagine how Hermione looked.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same way. Fred and George were relentless with their teasing, particularly whenever Harry and Hermione were anywhere near each other. So, subconsciously, the couple began to avoid being in the same room. Harry made sure to stay downstairs in sight, and Hermione remained hidden in the upstairs of the house.

It took the arrival of the Minister of Magic to draw the Golden Trio into the same room. He had a few things for them, straight from the Last Will and Testament of one Albus Dumbledore.

Harry received the very first Snitch he ever caught in the famous victory of Slytherin in his first year at Hogwarts. Few could forget the day the youngest Seeker for almost a century caught the Golden Snitch with his mouth. Harry was almost certain it had gone down in the history books.

Hermione received a book. Fitting, Harry thought. It was a collection of short stories, ranging from various magical folklore to bedtime tales. Hermione seemed pleased, even if she couldn't quite figure out the significance yet.

Ron, though Harry hated to admit, received the most interesting item from their fallen Headmaster. "What is it?" Ron asked carefully studying the round tube that fit perfectly in his enclosed fist.

"A deluminator," the Minister answered easily.

"What do you think it does?" Ron asked, turning to look at Harry.

"No clue," he replied, shrugging. "Give it a go then."

Ron held it out in front of him and flicked the cap with his thumb. A moment passed before they heard an almost suction sound, and suddenly, the room was robbed of all sources of light.

Harry couldn't stop his smile.

Ron was grinning widely, marvelling at the item in his hand. "Wicked."

Hermione just shook her head. "Oh Professor Dumbledore. What _have_ you done?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The day of the wedding was a busy one for everyone. Particularly for the mother of the groom. All Molly Weasley wanted was for her oldest son and his soon-to-be wife to have the most perfect day imaginable. But with a family like hers; it was always a miracle when things ran smoothly.

Molly was elbow deep in sending her younger sons out to the tent with last minute touch-ups that she barely noticed Harry enter the kitchen. He stood for a moment, mildly amused by the older woman's antics.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, cutting into her frantic hustle and bustle. "Anything I can help you with, Mrs Weasley?" he offered kindly.

It took her a moment to register his presence, before she turned to face him. Then she smiled. "Oh Harry. Don't you look dashing!"

Harry felt embarrassed as he looked down at himself to study his robes. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"Do you need help with your bow tie?" she kindly asked, eyeing the piece of material held loosely in his right hand.

"Oh, that's all right. You're busy. I'll just ask Hermione when she comes down."

"Nonsense," she dismissed, moving towards him. "Hand it here."

Harry stood perfectly still as her fingers expertly secured his bow tie. She was close enough for her motherly smell to wash over him, filling him with a deep sense of content. It was so familiar, so comforting. He knew he had to remember this feeling; to carry it with him through however long the hunt would take.

"There we go," she finally said, patting his shoulders once she was done.

"Thank you," he mumbled again.

Molly didn't move from her position in front of him. Like Hermione, she had developed a certain skill at reading his facial expressions. "Is everything all right with you, Harry?"

"Of course," he lied.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are the twins still teasing you about what happened the other night?"

Harry had to smile at that. Agreeing with her would be an easy escape from her prying eyes.

"Knowing this family, I'm certain something is going to happen to make them forget all about it," she assured him. "There's always something new to talk about. We're definitely an exciting bunch."

He nodded his agreement.

"We're glad you're here, Harry," she said softly, as if she knew he had tried to leave. "It wouldn't be a family celebration if you weren't." She pulled him into a much needed hug. "We're very lucky to have you," she said when she finally released him. "Don't you forget that."

Before he could respond, their attention was diverted to the sound of feet descending the stairs.

Molly marvelled at the sight of her only daughter. "Oh, so pretty, my darling," she cooed, which only made Ginny blush.

Harry had to agree. It was undeniable. Ginny really was very pretty, beautiful even, in her dark purple dress. But, in Harry's eyes, nobody would come remotely close to the beauty that was Hermione Granger. "Is Hermione coming down any time soon?" he asked the youngest Weasley.

Ginny looked at him, smiling slightly at his attire. "She was right behind me. Should be down any second."

With that, Harry moved towards the bottom of the stairs to wait while the two Weasley women left the kitchen. For a moment, he was alone. It was quite rare, really. In a home that currently housed so many, it was near impossible to get a moment alone. Well, there was always the shower, but Fred and George sometimes had no boundaries.

Her footsteps caught his attention and, like many times before, Hermione Granger rendered him speechless as she descended the stairs.

Hermione walked steadily until she came to a stop right in front of him, dressed to the aces in a lovely red dress. "Looking very handsome, Mr Potter," she said, inwardly pleased at his appearance. He might have been wearing his dress robes but his hair was still electric and his eyes were still mischievous. "Shall we?" she offered, but she did not move.

Harry waited a moment before he spoke. "You really have to stop doing this, Hermione," he said, faking disappointment as he shook his head.

Her brow creased. "What?"

"Robbing me of my breath merely by existing."

That made her smile, her cheeks burning a slight red. "I bet you're glad you stayed now, aren't you?"

He smiled widely, his eyes glinting with the mischief she knew all too well. "I definitely am. I mean, now that I think about it, I finally understand what all this celebration stuff is actually about."

"Oh really?"

"Definitely," he said, nodding his head. "I finally understand what today really is. You see, Miss Granger, this celebration actually has nothing to do with the wedding whatsoever. I get why you and Ron found it so important that we stay. This party is for us, isn't it? It's a sending off to the Golden Trio as we embark on our voyage to save the world from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." He was grinning widely. "It's a fitting farewell; a way for them to wish us luck. I don't know why I didn't see it before."

Hermione tried her best not to laugh but she couldn't help herself. She was just glad that he wasn't resenting the fact that he actually hadn't left. That was what worried her the most, though she wouldn't admit it. "And there you were thinking that having this wedding at a time like this was silly," she said.

He closed his eyes for a prolonged moment. "I came to my senses."

"I'm just glad you've finally figured out that because it _is_ a time like this; we need to be having this wedding."

Harry stepped towards her before had a look around to make sure they really were alone. "You know what's so great about actually being your boyfriend?"

"It's a long list."

He laughed, stepping towards her. "Very true," he agreed. "But it's that I get to kiss you whenever I want."

Her hand moved up to run through his hair. "Note to self: he's delusional."

Harry responded by kissing her, his hands immediately moving to hold her waist. Over the few months they had officially been together, he had learnt that it was vital he hold her up, in fear of a possible collapse. Some would have thought he would come to find it annoying, but he was actually quite pleased with himself. How many boys could say that that they still managed to make their girlfriends weak at the knees just by kissing them, some few months into the relationship?

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Harry pull away. Hermione hid her reddening face away from whoever was standing behind Harry.

"Run away," Harry whispered, and Hermione just laughed before she turned on her heel and headed straight out of the kitchen. Only then did Harry turn around to face the source of the throat clearing.

George was leaning against the kitchen sink, sipping at a mug of some liquid, looking very amused. "Love is in the air, eh?"

Harry just shook his head. "Oh, shut it."

* * *

By the time the wedding reception was truly underway, Harry was able to forget about the fact that he had almost missed any of it. He hated to admit that he had turned into a bundle of emotions when Bill and Fleur had said their vows. How could he have possibly passed on the opportunity to see his friends and family so happy? He barely had a moment alone though, as he was roped into dancing with all the various women in his life: Luna, Tonks, Fleur. Including Ginny, which wasn't at all awkward, given the fact that he had seen her in a towel just a few days ago.

Of course, Harry saved a dance for the mother of the groom. Molly didn't stop talking the entire time, which Harry found quite pleasant. He hadn't expected anything else, as she constantly fretted over whether or not everyone was having a good time or whether they had enough to eat and drink.

At a certain point in the evening, Harry made his way to a reasonably empty table. All he wanted to do was sit for a while and maybe have a drink. What he didn't intend on happening was starting a conversation with the lovely old woman sitting across from him. Even the elderly were fascinated by Harry Potter.

It was when the woman started talking about Dumbledore that Harry started to squirm. As much as he wanted to be good-mannered, he really didn't want to talk about the Headmaster who was now gone forever. Not on a day they were supposed to be celebrating the union of Bill and Fleur.

"... Godric's Hollow."

Harry's eyes snapped towards her. "Godric's Hollow?"

She looked a bit mystified. "That's where Dumbledore once lived. My goodness, did you know the man at all?"

Harry didn't have a response. As it turned out, there were so many things that he actually didn't know about his once magical mentor.

Hermione saved him from any more conversation when she appeared at his side. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, having sensed from across the tent that he needed rescuing from the conversation that was so clearly making him uncomfortable. "Do you mind if I borrow Harry?" she asked politely, even though her tone didn't suggest it was a question. "We haven't had the chance to dance yet."

Harry's usual reluctance to being dragged onto the dance floor was quickly sidelined by his eagerness to get away from the woman. He stood up, excused himself, and allowed Hermione to lead him away. But, before they could get into position; the entire tent seemed to reach a state of chaos unbecoming of upstanding witches and wizards when news of the attack on the Ministry reached them.

It was the arrival of the Death Eaters that really brought about the panic. Harry could feel Hermione tug on his sleeve, as bodies ran for cover. Harry just caught sight of Molly being thrown to the floor and he immediately started towards her, but Remus grabbed hold of him, stopping him from moving towards the ailing woman.

"No, Harry, you need to go," he said hurriedly. "We'll be fine. It's you they want."

That was enough for him. His eyes darted around, searching for Hermione. She was still right beside him. "Where's Ron?" he asked, having to yell over the pandemonium, as he took hold of her hand.

They spotted Ron at the same time, standing with Luna in the middle of what once was the dance floor.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed, gesturing with her hand for him to come to them. "Ron!"

Ron had to push people aside to get to them, as Harry and Hermione started towards him. As soon as Ron's hand met Hermione's, Harry was hit with the now familiar, yet horrible, sensation of apparition. All he was thinking as his body was pulled this way and that was that the Minister of Magic was dead.

 _The Ministry has fallen._

Before he knew it, they appeared on a street in London. Harry had no idea where they were, and he actually didn't really care. As long as they were away from the Death Eaters. For the time being, at least.

"Let's walk," Ron suggested.

So they did, getting strange looks from the various muggles on the darkened streets. That made Hermione turn to both boys. "We need to get changed," she said, turning into an alley. They walked a few metres to ensure that they were alone. Hermione eventually came to a stop and began to dig in her relatively small handbag.

Both boys watched in amazement as almost her entire arm disappeared into the bag and she pulled out muggle clothes for all of them.

Ron shook his head as she handed him a pair of jeans. "I don't even want to know."

Hermione looked quite chuffed with herself, as she should have been. "Thought as much."

Once they were changed, they hastily made their way through the streets of London until they found a quaint and empty diner. It appeared to be an okay place for them to gather their thoughts. They picked a table quite far into the diner, to be away from the windows. They were clearly all on edge, sitting stiffly as they contemplated their next move.

"Maybe we should go back," Harry said, even though he knew it probably wasn't a good idea.

Ron nodded. "Make sure everyone is okay."

Hermione shook her head. "You both know we can't do that. It's not safe. Harry, it's you they want," she said, reiterating what Remus had told him. "They're fine. I'm sure they've all gone underground by now. It's the best place for them right now."

That brought about a strangely subdued silence. Harry was made oddly aware of two men in coveralls walking into the diner and making their way to the back counter. They looked out of place, but the remembrance of his bag made him forget his initial suspicions.

"My bag," Harry said, shaking his head. "I left it at the Burrow. It's got all my things."

Hermione just patted her small handbag that was sitting on the table in front of them. "I've had all the essentials packed for days."

He marvelled at her, which he found himself doing quite often. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Always a tone of surprise," she teased.

For a moment, he risked a smile, before his eyes drifted passed her face to the two men who were now standing at the counter, seemingly about to order. As soon as he spotted the wand, he opened his mouth. "Down!"

Everything that happened after was like a bad dream. His wand came out and he was yelling. Shots were fired and he had just enough time to get down behind a chair. Before he acted, he located Hermione. She too was hidden behind a chair some meters away from him. Ron too, a few tables over.

For about a minute, they traded spells until Hermione landed the final blow, knocking both Death Eaters unconscious.

Of course Harry marvelled at her, though he wasn't the least surprised. Her spell work was impeccable, which was why she was the one who performed the spell that wiped their memories. The last thing they needed was for Voldemort to know that any Death Eaters had actually found them.

"We need to get off the streets. We need to go somewhere safe," Hermione concluded, once she had uttered the word _Obliviate_ for the second time in as many weeks.

They eventually decided on no. 12 Grimmauld Place. It brought back so many memories for Harry, particularly of Sirius, but it was probably the safest place for them in that moment.

"We're alone," Hermione let them know, leading the way further into the house.

Wasn't that the truth? It was a statement wrapped up in too much darkness for three seventeen-year-olds to have to deal with. They really were alone.

Ron fell asleep immediately, spreading himself out on the one couch in the living room. Harry and Hermione were lying together on the other one. Without actually voicing it, they all knew that they wanted to be in the same room. This wasn't the time to be separated from one another.

Hermione shifted until she was comfortable in Harry's arms. "I have a question," she said, breathing into his chest. "What were you and that _lovely_ old lady talking about?"

Harry kept his eyes closed. "Dumbledore." Out of habit, he kissed the top of her head. "Suddenly it feels like I didn't even know him, Hermione. There are just all these things about him that everyone else seems to know. Why is it that I was always left in the dark?"

"He was trying to protect you, Harry."

"No," he said tiredly. "He was trying to protect himself, grooming me for the final battle. Don't you see it? The prophesy says we both can't live, and Dumbledore's solution is that we both die."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say to that, so she didn't say anything. Instead, she just snuggled in closer to him, too afraid to let go. This was it. There really was no turning back now. "Try to get some sleep," she said into his chest. "Although, I'm not sure how you share a room with Ron. His snoring is atrocious."

Harry let out a light laugh. "What can I say? Harry Potter is talented."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Harry awoke first. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. When it eventually came to him, it left him quite breathless. They were on the run. They were being hunted. He could feel rising panic deep in his gut but he managed to squash it. This Horcrux hunt was going to require every ounce of courage he had.

Thankfully, Ron was still snoring lightly across the room and Hermione was sleeping soundly beside him. At least. If they could remain in blissful ignorance from their current situation for as long as possible; Harry would be happy with that.

He had to disentangle himself from Hermione when he did decide to get up. He felt as if this were the time for him to explore the house properly. Alone.

Once he was showered and dressed, he made his way to what he knew was Sirius' bedroom. From the state of it; it really didn't look like its owner had been dead for two years. It looked like Sirius had just left, planning on coming back any day now. It felt strange walking into it. It was even weirder looking through his Godfather's things. Harry was going through a book he found on a nightstand when he heard Ron's voice echo through the house.

"Harry! Hermione! I think I've found something."

It took Harry quite a while to locate his friend. He met Hermione on the landing, gave her a good morning kiss and then led the way towards Ron's persistent calling.

"Look at the name on the door," Ron said rather excitedly, once they were close enough.

Hermione read it out loud. "Regulus Arcturus Black."

Ron nodded. "R.A.B."

Harry risked a smile. It didn't stay for very long though. The problem with answering one of their questions was that it just left them with a whole lot more. Where was the locket now? Did Regulus manage to destroy it?

That was what they discussed at the kitchen table while they had breakfast. For the most part, Harry wasn't sure how to come up with answers to the questions without asking Regulus himself. It was just unfortunate that all of the Black family was gone.

"Maybe there was someone he knew," Hermione offered. "We can go through his bedroom to find if there was someone he trusted enough to confide in about the locket."

Harry was about to respond, but a scratching sound stopped him. He looked around. None of them was making it.

"Do you hear that?" Ron asked.

Hermione put a finger over her lips to keep him quiet, as Harry slowly, quietly rose to his feet. Ron and Hermione watched as their raven-haired friend crept towards the sound that was coming from the pantry cupboard in the kitchen.

Harry counted down a three, two, one with his fingers before he abruptly opened the cupboard door to find the nasty house-elf, Kreacher, bundled among cleaning supplies.

"You!" Harry exclaimed, grabbing the elf by the ear. "Eavesdropping, are you?"

"No, no," Kreacher pleaded. "Never, Mr Potter, never."

"Harry," Hermione said as she stood up, making him release the elf. "Maybe he knows about the locket."

From the way the elf cringed at the mention of the locket, Harry knew it to be true. "Do you know what this is?" Harry asked Kreacher, dangling the fake locket in front of him.

Kreacher started to back away, not wanting to be anywhere near it. Even the elves knew the darkness it carried.

"You know what this is, don't you?" Harry went on. "You know that there were two."

He continued to back away. "Master Black left it to me to destroy after his death. Kreacher tried everything. Everything."

"Where is the real one then?" Hermione asked.

Kreacher grimaced, spitting out his next words: "I don't answer to _mudbloods_."

"Hey," Harry reprimanded quite harshly. "You do not talk to her like that!"

Hermione had to stop Ron from hitting the house elf with a frying pan he picked up. Oddly enough, she was quite smitten: the two most important boys in her life coming to her defence at the slur of some aged house elf. How noble.

"Answer the question," Harry said strongly. "Where is the locket?"

Kreacher remained quiet.

"Tell me where the real locket is," Harry demanded, quickly losing patience.

"A man came," he eventually explained. "A thief. He took things, many things."

"Including the locket?"

Kreacher nodded.

"Do you know who the man is?" Harry asked.

Kreacher grimaced merely at the thought of the man, and actually shrank away when Ron stepped towards him intimidatingly. The elf seemed to growl before he finally spoke, revealing the thief's name. "Mundungus. Mundungus Fletcher."

"Blimey," Ron said, turning his head to look at Harry. "Never thought I'd ever hear that name again."

Harry kept eyes of steel on the elf before him: "Find him."

As soon as Kreacher disappeared from the kitchen with a barely audible _pop_ , Harry felt completely useless. The wait was long. Harry wasn't sure what to do with himself. He hated waiting almost as much as he hated Malfoy.

By the time the sun set, Kreacher still wasn't back. The trio had spent the day going through Regulus' bedroom anyway, trying to figure out why he had stolen the locket in the first place. They didn't learn much.

What they did learn was mainly to do with Sirius and Regulus' parents. In the time Harry had known his Godfather, they hadn't spent too much time talking about the last generation of the Black family, and now Harry thought he understood why. They weren't good, kind people, and the brothers had to stick together to get through their time away from Hogwarts.

For years, Harry had wondered what it would have been like to have siblings. It was part of the life he imagined he would have had, if his parents were still alive. Thinking about growing up in a loving home and possibly having a little brother that he maybe could have eventually taught how to fly had helped him through many lonely nights locked in the cupboard under the stairs.

Later in the evening, after Hermione had forced Harry to eat, and stopped Ron from devouring even her portion of dinner; the trio returned to the main living room to continue their wait for Kreacher. Harry took his place on one of the couches, while Ron and Hermione curbed their mutual fascination with the aged piano.

Hermione, to her credit, didn't blow Ron out of the water with her musical skills. She kept it simple, choosing to teach him a well-known muggle nursery rhyme. She had to laugh when Ron attempted to play it back to her.

"You're supposed to be supportive," he said, faking hurt. "That's definitely something you're going to have to work on, Hermione."

"Oh, right, you can barely hold a tune, and _I'm_ the one who needs adjusting?"

Ron was about to have another go at her when he noticed a cloudy look descend over her face. Her eyes had strayed past his head to where Harry was sitting somewhere behind him. She let out a rather defeated breath, which was very unlike her.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Ron offered, his voice barely a whisper.

It took Hermione a moment to return her attention to him, having missed what he said. "Excuse me?"

"I can talk to him," he repeated. "I don't know if you know but I'm quite good at bringing people out of a funk."

Hermione appreciated his sentiment, and his use of words. As tempted as she was to ask him to help that way, she knew that using humour to allow Harry to avoid whatever was going through his head would be counter-productive. "As much as I would love to see him smiling, I do think that this is something he needs to get through alone."

Ron nodded his understanding. He had to shift his body to look at his friend, who was staring aimlessly at the golden snitch fluttering a ruler's length away from his face. "Kreacher better arrive soon," he said, turning back to Hermione. "His mood is worrying me."

Hermione just nodded. "You and I both know how much Dumbledore meant to him. His head and heart are clashing, which isn't easy to deal with."

Ron smirked, trying to ease the mood. "Well, you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" he teased, shamelessly referring to the events leading up to her admittance that she was in love with Harry Potter.

"Oh, hush," she reprimanded, even though she was smiling.

Ron was just relieved by that. "Now, show me again, this strange tune of yours. _Mary had a little_ what-now?"

After a few tries, Ron started to get the hang of it, which allowed Hermione to leave him practicing and go to Harry. She sat down on the couch beside him, her knee touching his.

She sat quietly for about a minute, waiting to see if Harry would say something. When he didn't, she did. Referring to the snitch fluttering in front of him, she said: "They have flesh memory. I thought it might open at your touch; that Dumbledore had hidden something inside it."

"I guess I'm not the only one disappointed by him," he muttered.

Before she could respond, they heard a sound coming from the kitchen. Harry was up and on his way in the blink of an eye, clearly eager to discover if Kreacher had been successful. He had. The unpleasant elf was back with Mundungus, and with Dobby. The sight of his favourite house-elf brought an instant smile to Harry's face, only for the sight of Mundungus' sorry face to elicit a snarl from his throat.

Mundungus took out his wand when they entered the kitchen but Hermione quickly disarmed him, expertly shooting out an _Expeliarmus_. As soon as the man started to speak, seemingly wanting to explain his actions on the night of Mad Eye's death, Harry shut him up. "I'm not interested in what you have to say," he said strongly. "Tell me about what you took from this house."

Harry, of course, was lying. He was very interested in knowing what had made the man Apparate on the night of the flight from the Dursleys to the Burrow. He wanted to know how he could have left Mad Eye alone in the sky like that, leaving him vulnerable to the attack.

But for right now, all Harry wanted to know was where the locket was and it eventually came to pass that the current bearer of the locket was none other than Harry's all time favourite, Dolores Umbridge. Who else would be referred to as the Ministry hag? Honestly.

Harry looked at both Ron and Hermione. "Of course."

* * *

"You aren't seriously thinking of breaking into the Ministry, Harry," Hermione said, trying to make him see reason. "Everyone is looking for you." She pointed at the newspaper on the kitchen table. "You're Undesirable number one for goodness sake."

Harry couldn't see any other way to get to the awful woman. "We don't have a choice."

Hermione looked at Ron for support. "Ronald, please tell him this is an impossible idea."

Ron looked at Harry. "She's right, you know? It is mental." He looked at Hermione again. "But there's no other way, Hermione. Mental or not, we've got to figure out a way to get in and out without anyone recognising Harry. Or any of us, for that matter."

Hermione waited a shocked moment, wondering how it really was she came to be friends with these idiotic boys. "Fine," she huffed. "But if we get killed, I'm blaming the both of you."

"That's the spirit," Harry said, that mischief glinting in his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying this far too much for her liking.

Although, by the morning of that second day in September, Harry was anything but excited. Even though they had spent ages planning and preparing, he was actually beyond petrified because, once they walked into the Ministry, who was to say what would happen. And they weren't even sure how long the Polyjuice Potion would even last.

It also didn't help that they were promptly separated once they actually made it into the Ministry. Harry, of course, was no stranger to the building. His hearing for the underage use of magic barely compared to the memory of watching Sirius die right in front of him. Harry would have been perfectly happy never to return to the scene.

Harry's search of Umbridge's office didn't turn up anything useful with regard to Salazar Slytherin's locket, besides a comprehensive list of known associates of Undesirable No. 1. Hermione was on the list, which made him angry. Especially the red print. _Mudblood._ How could the Ministry justify a person being persecuted for their parentage?

Harry, of course, left her office with Mad Eye Moody's magical eye. He definitely owed the man that much.

Merely the sight of Dolores Umbridge made Harry's skin crawl when he finally found her in what he believed was the very courtroom he had had his own hearing. It felt like a lifetime ago. He spotted Hermione immediately, and he calmed ever so slightly. He didn't like not knowing where she was, especially in what was probably the most dangerous place in the world for them. She was sitting uncomfortably in the stands, her eyes darting between Umbridge and the poor wizard, and then witch, who were on trial. If you could call it that. Umbridge wasn't seeing any reason.

When Harry finally had enough of Umbridge's sadistic jeering, and blatant lie about the locket hanging around her neck; he acted. Hermione was ready. She grabbed for the locket, and what followed his initial stunning spell was chaos. She was just glad that he hadn't yet turned back into the most famous teenage wizard in Britain.

As it were, like always, the trio barely escaped, managing to Apparate out of the Ministry. After sending their bodies through a whirlwind, they appeared in some place Harry didn't recognise and he was forced to acknowledge that Hermione had to have brought them here for a reason. Whatever reason that was would have to wait. The sight of Ron writhing in pain on the ground wiped all thoughts of where or why they were in the middle of what seemed to be the woods.

While Hermione saw to Ron's wounds, Harry sought out the magical tent in her enchanted bag. The girl was prepared for everything. Before he assembled it, he watched as Hermione abandoned the relieved Ron and made her way to the edge of their clearing, her wand already out.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Protection charms," she explained, her wand held up above her head. "Wards to keep us hidden."

"Do you think they'll work?" he queried. "And the fact that I ask that by no means reads that I doubt your ability. I'm just asking."

Hermione turned her head to look at him, slightly amused. "They'll work." It wasn't the most confident statement she had ever made, but it was enough for him as he returned his attention to the tent. It was probably a good idea to build it around the now unconscious Ron. He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. But then again, he couldn't have expected the entire infiltration to go off without a hitch.

Ron, understandably, went to bed as soon as he was done eating. Being splinched was never going to affect his appetite. The potions Hermione gave him knocked him out completely, and the sound of his steady snoring filled the tent. Hermione hated to admit that she found it comforting. Especially when she was met with the look on Harry's face. He hadn't said very much since he erected the tent. They had gone through dinner without him saying so much as a full sentence.

"You're mad at me," Hermione eventually called him on it. His expression told the tale of a constant battle of emotions, even as he sat there in an armchair, staring into space.

Harry's eyes drifted towards her, as she walked towards him. "What?"

"You're mad," she repeated. "Or you want to be, but you know you can't."

He risked a smile. "It's actually scary how well you know me," he said, putting his hand out for her to go to him. "And, of course, you're right as usual."

"I'm sorry about Grimmauld Place," she said rather solemnly, moving to sit down on his lap, his left arm slipping around her waist. "Yaxley had hold of me," she explained, as her hand moved to run through his hair. "I had to use the Revulsion Jinx, but he had already seen the house."

Harry didn't want to talk about the Black house. "I'm just glad you're okay," he mumbled. "Today was an eye-opener, Hermione. The truth is we're not invincible. Ron got hurt, badly. It could have been me; it could have been you. All I want is to keep you safe, and I don't know how to do that when you're on a Wanted list because of your association with me."

"My association with you has nothing to do with the Order, or the fact that you're probably the only person who can actually defeat You-Know-Who. Okay, maybe it's a little to do with that. But I'm associated with you, Harry Potter, because I love you. You don't have to keep me safe. I can look after myself. I am fully aware of what I signed up for."

Harry didn't respond to her words. Instead, he asked a question. "How is Ron?"

She closed her eyes for a moment. "He needs to rest. I know you're probably eager to get going but he isn't strong enough for that. He'll probably need a couple of days."

Harry did his best to keep the disappointment off his face. He was sure he wasn't successful, what with Hermione being a facial-expressions-whisperer and all. "At least we got the locket," he forced out.

"Now all we have to do is destroy it."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"You go first, Harry," Hermione instructed, as the three of them stood with the locket about a metre in front of them.

Harry steeled himself for what he needed to do. He raised his wand and shot a Jinx, sending the locket flying to the ground. It was, however, still intact, so he tried again. Nothing.

Then it was Hermione's turn. "Incendio."

Harry started walking towards where the locket was now lying on the ground. He shot Jinx after Jinx. Again and again, he tried. Still, nothing. "Nothing's working," he finally said, the frustration seeping into his tone.

"Seems strange, mate," Ron said from behind him. "Dumbledore sends you off to find all these Horcruxes but doesn't tell you how to destroy them. Doesn't that bother you?"

Harry didn't want to admit that it did bother him, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he just bent to pick up the locket and hung it around his neck.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked him, sounding particularly worried.

"We have to keep it safe," he said curtly. "Until we can find a way to destroy it. There has to be a way."

Hermione spent most of the following days searching through the various books she thought would be useful and tending to Ron's wound. Harry searched through the books as well, hoping to find something, anything that would help them destroy the Horcrux. Ron spent the days recovering, trying to regain his strength.

After dinner one night, the three of them remained at their makeshift dining table to discuss their next move. Hermione mentioned to Harry that Ron was nowhere near strong enough to Apparate, which made him feel unusually angry. In the moment that he was about to snap at her, a different thought came to mind. It came at him slowly at first, making him reach for the locket around his neck, not as a reminder that it was still there, but for some rest bite. It was as if it was burning his skin.

For that moment, Harry's mind was left vulnerable enough to allow the mental assault of thoughts. Voldemort. Harry staggered back, falling off the bench, his eyes blurry, his breath catching.

Ron and Hermione waited, unnerved, but knowing that they had to let him see it through, even though it broke Hermione's heart to see him in pain.

When Harry's eyes eventually cleared up, she moved to kneel in front of him, touching his damp hair. "Hi," she whispered.

Harry swallowed. "Hey," he croaked.

"I thought they'd stopped," she admitted. Then: "You can't keep letting him in, Harry."

"I have to," Harry said rather dismissively. Then, softer, he said: "He wants something that Gregorovitch used to have."

"The wand maker?" Ron queried.

Harry nodded, trying to stand up. He felt quite exhausted but he just managed with the help of Hermione.

"He's searching for something. I don't know what but he wants it desperately. I mean, it's as if his life depends on it."

Hermione didn't say anything, and Ron just sat back down. She helped Harry down onto the bench again and surveyed him, worry taking over her entire face.

"I'm fine," Harry told her. "I just need a minute."

"Just one?"

He smiled weakly at her. "Did I have you worried?"

Ron was the one who answered. "Mate, you should have seen her face. I could have sworn she wanted to cry."

Hermione did not laugh. In fact, she didn't react at all. She did, however, run her hands through Harry's hair, kiss his forehead and then retake her seat beside him. It was back to business as usual. Having witnessed Harry's connection to Voldemort was an eye-opener for her. It merely confirmed something she had been suspecting for quite some time, and she was determined to find a way to prove herself wrong. Or merely avoid the inevitable.

It was a fact not lost on either boy that she stayed up well after they retired for the evening. When Harry woke up, feeling strangely angry, Hermione was not beside him. It wasn't particularly unusual; she sometimes woke up well before him. What did bother him when he found her still at their dining table, was that she didn't appear to have actually moved from her position at all.

Harry thought it best not to comment. Well, at least not until she had some breakfast. Instead, he greeted her by kissing the top of her head, which did more good for him than her.

Hermione mumbled her words. "Hi you. Good morning." She sounded tired to him, which he could only pick up because he knew her so well. Hermione was no stranger to pulling all-nighters. She and Harry had spent many nights working in the library, trying to get the best grades they could. As much as Harry tried - and he did try - he never did better than her. In any subject. Ever.

"How did you sleep?" Harry found himself asking.

She hesitated, turning and tilting her head to look at him. "Fine," she lied. "You?"

 _Alone._ "Well enough," he said. "I didn't dream, which is always a relief." That was also a lie. He'd had terrible dreams that exaggerated the life out of his deepest, darkest fears: losing Hermione.

Hermione just nodded, returning her attention to the large book open in front of her. It was an old one, with weathered pages and too much history. Definitely her bread and butter.

"Did you find anything?" he asked curiously, moving to sit down beside her, facing the other way.

There was a moment when she considered her response. The truth was she had found something, but it had very little to do with how to destroy the locket. It had everything to do with the actual Horcruxes. Or what she believed to be Horcruxes. "Not much," she finally said. "It's frustrating."

Harry understood that. He was trying desperately hard to keep a hold of his own frustration. It seemed to be getting much harder, the longer he wore the locket around his neck. They needed to find a way to destroy it before it exploded in a bad way.

"But there are still so many books we still have to go through," she offered.

Harry turned to pick up a book on the bench just to his left. "What about this one Dumbledore left to you?"

She sighed. "I've gone through it five times already," she admitted, not even the slightest embarrassed about it. "It might contain useful things but I don't yet know enough to decipher it. We'll figure it out."

He didn't know why but he found that positivity coupled with the uncertainty very irritating. "I told you I don't like your positivity. Stop."

She risked a smile. "I'm being realistic, Harry. We _have_ to figure it out. We don't have a choice. I mean, if we don't even know how to destroy them, this entire hunt is going to amount to nothing."

"The negativity," he said, eyeing her. "I like it a lot better."

"You're the worst."

"But you still love me," he said hotly, giving her a quick, sloppy kiss on her cheek, which made her giggle. "My goodness, did I just hear correctly? Did Hermione Granger actually just giggle?"

Her embarrassment was almost too much for her to deal with. "Oh hush. You can't tell me you're surprised I'm actually a girl."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Hermione, I know you're a girl. Trust me."

Her cheeks were on fire. She was certain she was turning the colour of a tomato.

Harry could have kept going, but there was a fine line between a blushing a Hermione and a Hermione intent on causing him bodily harm. Plus, she was clearly tired, which meant she would probably reach her threshold much faster. So he stood up. "I'm going to get ready," he said. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay," was all she said.

Before he disappeared into the bathroom, Harry checked on Ron. Even though his shoulder was bandaged and his arm was in a sling; the boy still slept like a toddler.

Once he was dressed and ready, he located the portable radio and put it next to Ron's bed. If he was going to talk about his family in his sleep, the least Harry could do was find some way to let him know that they were all right, if only to keep him quiet at night. The snoring was already enough to deal with.

Hermione was in the kitchen when Harry eventually emerged. She was eating an apple while stirring a small pot on the stove. He had no idea where she found the energy after being awake for so long.

The two of them were sitting at the table when the first scratchy sounds filled the tent. Ron came walking out of his bunk, radio in hand, and bed hair to make his brothers proud. "Morning," he mumbled.

"All right, Ron?" Harry asked.

"I feel like I've had way too much butterbeer," he admitted, depositing the radio onto the table. "Can't seem to find a station. Do you mind trying? I've got quite a headache."

Harry nodded, as he moved to turn the dial. It took a while for him to find a voice. It was a woman reporting on the state of the Wizarding world. She was mentioning names he didn't recognise, which was probably the best thing for all of them.

They used the radio as background noise as their days went on. Ron napped quite a few times, of course, and Hermione saw to his injuries as timely as she could. Harry and Hermione took walks when they weren't researching. But mostly, Harry kept an ear to the radio.

"Wait," Harry eventually said, having heard something disconcerting. "Did I just hear correctly? Snape was appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts?"

Ron and Hermione looked equally perplexed, right before the understanding descended. Of course Voldemort would appoint his most trusted advisor, now that evil had taken over the Ministry.

For Harry, the understanding quickly turned to anger. He acknowledged it, which made him frown. How angry could he really get at that? "It's such an insult to Dumbledore," he said, a growl rumbling in his throat. "It's disgusting! What do you think they're teaching them at school? Snape's going to poison all the students' minds. He'll allow Death Eaters into the school!"

Ron frowned at him. "Mate," he said. "You all right?"

Harry shook his head harshly, trying to shake the anger away. "I'm fine." It was a short burst that he managed to cap.

As usual, Ron retired to bed first. Hermione saw to his wounds one last time before she left the tent to sit by a fire she conjured. They hadn't really decided on anyone keeping watch for long periods at a time, but she felt as though it was something she had to do. Tonight of all nights, she wanted to keep an eye out for her boys.

Before Harry went to bed, he headed out to say goodnight. "Are you going to go to sleep any time soon?" he asked.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Eventually."

"Okay," he mumbled.

She put her hand out. "Give me the locket, Harry," she said.

"What?"

"The locket. Give it to me," she instructed. "I think we should all take turns wearing it. You've been painfully irritable the past few days."

He hesitated.

"It's my turn," Hermione said.

Harry looked skeptical.

She read it on his face. "Honestly, Harry, you know I'll be fine. Just give it here."

He waited a beat before he removed the locket from around his neck and handed it to her. As he did, it was as if a certain lightness fell over him. The anger he was harbouring for whatever reason seemed to fall away quite instantly.

"Is that better?"

He nodded.

"Good. Now you should probably get some rest while you can. There's no use for the both of us burning ourselves out."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asked. "I don't mind keeping you company while you feel like you have to protect us from the Big Bad Wolf."

"I'll be fine," she assured him, risking a smile. "I promise."

Harry could tell she wanted to be alone so he wasn't going to argue. So he kissed her goodnight, whispered that he loved her and disappeared into the tent, wishing that she would come in with him. Leaving her alone with the locket was just something he really didn't want to do. It tended to grab onto and feed on a person's deepest fears, and he didn't want Hermione to feel that.

After almost an hour sitting relatively uncomfortably by a dying fire in front of the tent, a sound finally drew her in. Ignoring the hexagonal shaped burning sensation just below her heart, she rose to explore.

Anything to stay awake.

The last thing she thought she would encounter was a group of Snatchers carrying a seemingly dead body. The panic she felt was quickly squashed by her need for self-preservation. She remained completely still, even holding her breath, as they drifted on by.

Once they were out of earshot, a voice sounded behind her. It was Harry. She hadn't even heard him approach.

"Snatchers," he mumbled. "Your enchantments work," he said, quite proudly.

Hermione appeared rather disappointed in herself when she turned only her head to look at him.

"What?" Harry asked, reading her facial expression.

"He can smell it. My perfume."

Harry put a hand on the small of her back. "But your enchantments still work, Hermione," he said brightly. "That's still amazing."

She laughed lightly. "You're my boyfriend. You have to say that."

He pushed on her back to turn her, so they could head back to the tent. "No, I have to say that because you're the reason we're all alive right now. And the reason I even want to be."

She looked at him. "If you're trying to be cute, you're doing it wrong."

"I'm not _trying_ to be anything. I'm just telling you the truth. Can't you handle the truth? You can't handle the truth!"

Hermione admitted to him quite early on in their relationship that she really did enjoy it when he made muggle references. It was something special that they shared, having grown up as muggles. He was one of the only people she knew who understood her appreciation for the non-magicals. "I think you're the one who can't handle the truth," she said, almost tripping over a misplaced rock.

"What do you mean?"

"I've told you several times now. Your irritable self just wouldn't see reason. Ron still isn't strong enough to Apparate," Hermione reminded him, their feet crunching on the ground beneath them.

"Then..." he sounded, visibly thinking. "We'll go on foot."

She let out a long breath in mild resignation.

"And, next time, Hermione, as much as I love the way you smell, maybe don't wear your perfume?"

Despite herself, she laughed. "I'll take note of that."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The next morning, they packed up their things, dismantled the tent and set off on foot. The truth was that they didn't quite know where they were going, just that they had to keep moving. They went through acres of fields, finding endless abandoned houses and destroyed homes. There were no people around but they still had to stay hidden, moving at strategic times, because Death Eaters continually patrolled the sky. All they heard on the radio was lists of people who had gone missing, muggle and magical alike.

They settled every evening in a new place, and pitched the tent for the night. It was no use keeping walking when they didn't even know where they were going. Once Ron was strong enough to Apparate, it didn't even matter anymore. Harry had absolutely no idea where they would go.

"You don't know what you're doing, do?" Ron asked one evening.

Harry took a deep breath. He was relieved someone had voiced the elephant in the room but it still felt like a kick in the gut. "None of us do," he eventually said.

Ron just nodded. It seemed to be enough.

Harry wondered if it really was enough. The wind was howling outside, shaking the tent with a certain viciousness that Harry deemed pathetically fallacious. The sun had set early, sending he, Ron and Hermione back into the tent earlier than usual. Over the few weeks they had spent hiding in the tent, it became apparent that experiencing the fresh air was a certain comfort they weren't willing to give up. They had already given up so much.

They had had a small dinner, wary of how much they ate. It was much too dangerous to step out to shop for necessities, as themselves. The Polyjuice Potion was vital for survival, and not to be used sparingly. Especially not after their expeditions at the Ministry of Magic.

Being inside the tent, in such close proximity, had been difficult for them at the beginning of their travels. Particularly for Ron, who liked to make a huge deal about always being the third wheel in the wonderful love story of the famous Harry Potter and his eventual girlfriend, Hermione Granger.

Although, Harry was convinced they had adjusted as well as could be expected. At least in that regard. The fact that the hunt was painfully stagnant didn't help with the trio's morale, but Harry was trying desperately hard to hold onto any piece of hope. Whenever he wasn't wearing the locket, he tried to use humour to get the others through the day.

He wasn't always successful.

"You're being awfully quiet tonight," Ron pointed out to Harry, cutting into his thoughts.

Harry regarded his best friend, wishing there were words he could say to ease their matching frowns. The two of them were seated in old, torn armchairs, not quite facing each other, nursing mugs of cooling boiled water.

Hermione was asleep. Harry was at least grateful for that. Ron and he had noticed quite early on how little she slept. It really started when she witnessed Voldemort's attack on his mind. Now she was constantly thinking, reading and researching. She was committed to finding and destroying the Horcruxes in a way that Harry still hadn't been able to wrap his head around. She did it with a certain ferocity, like a desperation, that he was too afraid to query just yet.

"What's on your mind?" Ron prompted.

Harry wasn't actually sure what he was thinking about, which made him hesitate.

Ron smirked. "And don't worry. The girl's in dream land. The shackles can come off. You are free to speak your mind."

Harry couldn't stop his smile. For months, he and Hermione had endured Ron's incessant jabs at the way in which they had finally got together. Harry was just glad that Ron hadn't stopped now that they were away from Hogwarts.

"She could still hear," Harry said. "She's a very talented witch."

Ron pulled a face. "Whoa. Easy on the sexual connotation there, Potter. That's my best friend we're talking about."

They shared a laugh.

"But seriously, mate," Ron said, his tone severe. "What is bothering you?"

Harry let out a long sigh. "We've all given up a lot to do this," he began. "The both of you more than me. You're away from your family, and Hermione is away from her parents. They're all such big sacrifices, and I'm worried you'll both start to resent me the longer this goes on."

Ron didn't say anything for a while. When he finally spoke, he was smiling. "I'm glad you brought it up first, because I've been meaning to say something for a while."

He shook his head in amusement. "You can't even let me be serious for a minute, can you?"

"We know what we signed up for, Harry. I know we've been at this for a while, and it's probably starting to feel aimless and hopeless but it's not as if we could just stop, you know?"

"I don't want to be the first person to admit how hopeless I'm beginning to feel," he finally admitted, feeling the locket burn into the skin of his chest. Sometimes it made it difficult to breathe.

"Then don't be."

"I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I didn't think it would be this difficult. Something has to happen. Something needs to let us know that we're on the right track. Because, right now, all we have is a Horcrux that we can't even destroy, and a Snitch that we can't even open."

Ron managed to read his friend's face. "That isn't even what's really eating you right now, is it?"

Harry looked at him.

"What? So maybe I took a page out of Hermione's notebook."

Harry smiled, and then he sighed. "Well, truthfully, this isn't exactly how I thought Hermione and I would be spending our one year anniversary."

"Oh," Ron sounded. "Wow, has it been a year already?"

Harry nodded. "Can you believe it?"

"No," Ron answered quickly, a smirk on his face. "Truthfully, I didn't think you two would last a week."

"I'm going to try not to take offence," he muttered, before his face broke out in a smile. "But I do suppose you are right. It was weird for the two of us once we officially labelled what we were."

"It wasn't just weird for the two of you, I'll have you know. I mean, sure, you guys already acted like a couple before you ever became one, but then you were one, and there was all the hand-holding and the endless smiling and the kissing. Merlin, the kissing. It's still annoying."

"You love it."

Ron grinned. "I guess there is something nice about knowing that my two best friends are happy with each other. And I suppose I should be grateful I haven't heard any strange sounds coming from your bunk."

Harry's eyes widened. "Merlin, Ron!" he reprimanded, even though he was laughing. "Although, you're definitely one to talk," Harry pointed out. "Don't think we didn't see you and Luna at the wedding. Your mother practically had to beg you to dance with her, otherwise you wouldn't have danced with anyone else."

Ron blushed profusely. "That is complete rubbish."

"Is it really?"

Ron took a while to respond. "She's great," he said, his cheeks turning pink. "I mean, I already knew that, but I didn't really _know_ that. You probably think I took the break-up with Lavender quite well, but I really didn't. Sure, the entire world knew we were doomed from the start, but I really was happy with her. She changed. After you and Hermione were officially dating; it was like she became this entirely knew, confident, not-as-over-bearing person. Which just makes me wonder if she used her girl senses to figure out that Hermione fancied me, and she found that threatening."

Harry had never looked at it like that. "Maybe. Girls can be strange."

"I spent a lot of the summer thinking about it. I mean, I still think about her sometimes."

"In the night time," Harry interjected, laughing at himself.

Ron looked at him and calmly said: "You never get to talk, Potter, and do you know why?"

Harry immediately knew where this was going, and he was already irritated before his friend opened his mouth.

"Lest we forget that Hermione Granger actually fancied me first," he said proudly, enjoying being able to hold something over his friend. "Sure it might have been a misplaced infatuation, but blimey, who wouldn't fancy me?"

Harry glared at him. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

Ron nodded his head quite vigorously. "Never. Ever. I've even got my best man speech planned already, and I intend to tell this tale to all your children. If they're going to know what kind of heroes their parents are; then they deserve to know how cowardly they can be as well."

He just stared at his best friend, stunned to an uncomfortable silence. Ron spoke about the future so easily, as if there really was no other option. For Harry, the only option was death. Sure, for times, he'd allowed himself to imagine a life passed the war, but he had to remain realistic. He wouldn't survive Voldemort. It was an unspoken truth among the three of them; something they were all desperate to avoid talking about.

Ron didn't notice the blank panic on Harry's face, so he continued. "I assume you have something planned for the special day?"

Harry had to remove himself from his dark thoughts - ones that the locket seemed to latch onto - and turn to his best friend. "I did. Sort of. I don't know. How romantic can I possibly be in the middle of nowhere?"

"You could always Apparate somewhere," Ron offered. "Just for the day, I mean. Somewhere nobody would recognise you. I think the two of you deserve a day off from all this darkness."

"What about you?" Harry asked curiously.

Ron thought it best not to mention what was on his mind just yet. "I reckon I deserve a day off from you two as well."

Harry faked a laugh. "Maybe you're right though," he said softly. "Definitely something to think about. Especially since her birthday was such a disaster."

"That's not my fault."

"It totally is."

Ron smirked. "Well, I think I might have a way to make it up to you."

* * *

The next day started out the way it usually did. Hermione was up first, her head already buried in a book. She had several of them open across the table when Harry and Ron finally emerged. Their mumbled greetings were given the same response.

It was definitely going to be one of those days.

In the afternoon, Ron took a nap. As usual. It was the only type of routine of which he was a fan. What he wasn't a fan of was waking up and finding that he was alone in the tent. The panic he felt was painful as he grabbed his wand and went in search of his companions.

"There you two are," Ron said, locating his two best friends under a tree some few metres from the entrance to the tent.

Truthfully, Ron expected to find them in a compromising position but they were both reading, Hermione's legs hanging over Harry's.

"Leave a bloke a note, you know?" Ron continued, moving to stand in front of the pair of them. "Kind of scary waking up alone after a nap, during a Horcrux hunt."

"Sorry," Harry said apologetically. "We wanted some fresh air."

Ron nodded his understanding. "Speaking of. I've made an executive decision," he said, standing up straighter. He met Harry's gaze for a moment before he addressed them both. "Seeing as we're this close to Romania, I think I should visit Charlie."

Hermione was quickly up on her feet, uncharacteristically casting her book aside. "What? Ronald, that's an absurd idea!"

"Is it?" he queried, putting a hand out to help Harry to his feet as well. "We're at a crossroads here, my friends. You're reading because you're still searching for what comes next, and I'm saying that maybe Charlie knows."

"But Ron," Hermione countered. "It's too dangerous."

"It'll be only for a few days," he continued, ignoring her worry. "It'd be nice to find out about the family as well."

That halted Hermione's next argument.

"And I suspect the two of you would like some time alone."

Hermione frowned. "We're on a life-threatening hunt for pieces of the darkest wizard alive's soul; I think the last thing we want is for you to leave."

Ron looked at Harry, and then back at Hermione. "I've already decided. I'll be careful, I promise."

Hermione turned to the boy beside her. "Harry, please make him see sense," she practically pleaded. "What if he's gone and we have to leave for some reason? Then what? How do find one another then?"

Ron cleared his throat. "Harry is constantly saying you're the brightest witch in our year, Hermione; I'm sure you can figure something out."

She did, however, already have an idea, which she was determined not to have to implement. "No," she said, stomping her foot. "I refuse. You're not going anywhere."

Harry finally spoke. "Hermione, he's not a prisoner, you know?"

She shot him a look.

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "I don't think he should go either. All I'm saying is you can't forbid him from going."

"I can, and I am," she said.

Ron sighed. "I'm serious when I say that I've already decided. I've even packed."

Hermione looked like she'd been sucker-punched. "You're leaving today?"

"Right now, actually."

She shook her head. "What is happening? Seriously."

Ron had to smile at the mystified look on her face. It was very rare that she was at a loss as to what was happening.

It took a lot more convincing, with Harry making good points on both sides. Being mediator for the two was something he was used to. He had been resolving their bickering since they started their first year at Hogwarts.

"We'll stay as long as we can," Hermione assured him before he left. "But we'll Apparate to the Acropolis in Athens every night at ten o'clock."

Ron nodded. "I heard you the first four hundred times."

"Don't you forget."

"I won't."

Harry chuckled. "You'd think he were five years old, the way you're treating him."

Hermione huffed. "Well, if he didn't act like a five year old, I wouldn't have to."

"Ouch," Ron sounded. "Just say you're going to miss me."

He gave them both goodbye hugs before he Apparated from right in front of them.

Hermione turned to Harry, feeling quite afraid for the first time in a long time. It was strange. They were facing death and the thing she was most afraid of in that moment was being left alone with her boyfriend.

Harry put his arm out. "Shall we?"

She linked her arm with his before they walked back into the safety of the enchantments. They walked very slowly, both of them subconsciously putting off having to enter the tent and be two instead of three.

Hermione felt as though she was being ridiculous. There were many times she was alone with Harry before, why should this time be any different? Well, for starters, Ron wasn't in the other room, or they weren't in the library surrounded by tons of other students at other tables.

But the truth was that the two of them had never been alone alone. And now that they were, she felt intimidated. No, not intimidated. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what she was feeling.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Harry asked once they stepped through the entrance to the tent. "It just feels weird not having him here. And yes, I'm well aware of the fact that it's been like ten minutes. But I miss him."

Hermione laughed. "And you think I'm clingy."

"You are. Have you ever slept with yourself? You're like creeping ivy. How you manage to wrap yourself around me always surprises me."

Hermione stared at him for a moment. Sometimes his innocence was too much to handle. How was it that this boy existed? "You're warm," she said, smiling. "It's really your own fault."

"And I always happen to wake up with hair all over my face. Are you trying to suffocate me?"

She crossed her arms across her chest, as she turned to face him, meeting his gaze. "Well, if you're going to complain this much, I may as well sleep in my own bunk."

Harry didn't back down as he too stared her down. "You wouldn't," he said. "You and I both know how much you want to sleep with me."

There was a monumental silence that seems to drag on for ages. Eventually, Hermione burst out laughing, her cheeks on fire. "You are properly the worst."

He too laughed. "Well, I love you too."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

On the morning of their one year anniversary, Harry awoke first. He, as usual, had to disentangle himself from the limbs of Hermione. He had decided that they were going to put the hunt on hold for one day. For one day, they were going to forget that the fate of the Wizarding World lay on their shoulders, and they were going to act like two teenagers in love. Ron was at least right about that; they deserved one day off.

Harry had some of the day planned. The beauty of being able to Apparate meant that they could really go anywhere they wanted. And for this one day, they weren't going to worry about their hunt. It had taken him a while to convince himself, which only made the task of convincing Hermione even more daunting. She seemed very committed. He had called it a form of desperation. It just seemed like there was something she told herself she had to find and she wouldn't stop until she did.

Harry had to admit that it wasn't particularly unlike her. She was always very focused and determined, but this felt different. Harry wouldn't be able to explain it to anyone who asked but he knew her well enough to know that something was wrong. Well, something definitely wasn't right.

As if her body told her it was a special day, Hermione slept in as much as Hermione possibly could. It was already after ten o'clock by the time she emerged from their bunk to find Harry sitting at the table. He was reading a newspaper. A muggle newspaper.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, going up behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders, bending to kiss the top of his head. "And where did you get it?"

"Well, good morning to you too," he mumbled, tilting his head to look at her. "How did you sleep?"

"Surprisingly well."

"I bet." He got to his feet quite quickly, shocking her. Before she knew it, she was lifted off the ground and spun around in an action that was very unlike him.

She screamed in glee. "Harry! No! Put me down! Harry Potter!"

He was laughing like a child when he finally set her down. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I'm just really glad you're awake." He pulled her towards him and kissed her hard, his hands moving to her waist.

Hermione looked dazed when he pulled away.

"Happy anniversary, Hermione Granger," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers for a moment.

Hermione just blinked several times, trying to regain focus. "Happy anniversary, Harry Potter," she said equally as softly. Then, louder: "Can you imagine that I've had only one year of this? Honestly, Harry, what have we been doing all our lives?"

He kept his eyes on her. "Don't you start," he muttered. "You know as well I do that we were going to need some sort of push in the right direction. The important thing is that we eventually found each other. The right way."

"What was the wrong way?"

"The wrong way was that I couldn't do this," he said, moving in to kiss her again. "I'm apologising in advance, but I'm literally going to be kissing you all day. I hope you're okay with that."

Hermione felt her cheeks begin to burn. One would think they would have stopped by now, but she just couldn't help it. "I suppose I'll just have to make do."

He laughed lightly. "Good. Because today is my day. It's _our_ day. Today, you and I get to forget all about You-Know-Who and the Horcruxes and the hunt and all that scary stuff. I just want to enjoy it!"

She admired the excitedly determined look on his face. "Hmm, you're saying that like you have something planned."

"Oh, but I do," he said, his eyes glinting with the mischief she had come to know all too well. "But before we do any of that, maybe you'd like some breakfast."

"Breakfast?" she queried. That word wasn't usually said with such vigour. It was normally some form of porridge that nobody in their right mind could possibly get excited about.

He took hold of her hand and pulled her towards the part of the tent they considered their kitchen. "Don't get mad, but I sort of went on a little trip this morning and I picked up some breakfast."

She frowned at his words. "Harry?"

"Don't get righteous and reprimand me for money I know we're keeping saved for dire emergencies, because I didn't spend any of that. I used the money I dubbed the 'Spoiling Hermione Fund' before any of this even began," he assured her.

At that, she knew her arguments would fall on deaf ears. His determined look wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"Take a look," he said, gesturing towards a counter.

Hermione's eyes settled on a box on the counter. It had a logo on its top that she didn't recognise but it didn't stop her from moving towards it. The logo was in the shape of a croissant, with a red sun coming out behind it. That was enough to excite her. "Harry, are these what I think they are?"

"I don't know. What do you think they are?" He stood and watched as she opened the box, revealing the many pastries inside.

Her already marvelling smile widened. "Oh my God, Harry, where did you get these?" she asked, turning her head to look at him. "And why? How? You really shouldn't have. Like, really, you shouldn't have."

"I wanted to, Hermione. And it's not like a big deal or anything. They're just croissants and cupcakes, and I'm sure I spotted some chocolate eclairs in there as well."

"Just croissants and cupcakes and eclairs?" she asked, managing to peel her gaze away from the contents of the box to look at him. "Harry, I don't know if you know this but I kind of haven't eaten anything remotely this pretty in months."

"I know, which is why I want you to enjoy them. And wow, you've really got more self-discipline than I could ever have. Seriously, I would have gone through at least twelve by now."

She laughed, returning her attention to the box. "It has nothing to do with that, honestly. I really just don't even know where to start. Which one do I choose? This is a very difficult decision."

He moved towards her. "Well, if it were me, I'd definitely start with the chocolate croissant. But that's just me."

"Is that your way of subtly hinting that it's the one you want?" she asked, her fingers hovering over the items in the box. "Because speak now before this entire box disappears."

"Oh no. I've already eaten. The entire box is at your disposal," he assured her, placing a hand on the small of her back and peering into the box.

"Well, in that case, you should probably get yourself comfortable. I'm probably going to be a while here."

"Take all the time in the world."

He would quickly come to regret those words. The last thing he wanted was to rush her in any way but he found that he was quite eager to get out of the tent and visit the places Ron had suggested. For most of his life, Harry hadn't been particularly interested in travelling the world. He still wasn't. The only thing that had interested him was being anywhere but at the Dursleys'.

But after weeks of being cooped up in the tent, anything new was welcomed wholeheartedly. He and Hermione had spoken about it once before. Her interests in the Wizarding practices of places other than Britain would take her places, Harry was sure, but she had never mentioned whether she wanted him with her or not.

Harry knew about the Weasleys' trip to Egypt. They all seemed to have enjoyed it, and the twins had gone on and on for days on end about the new people and the new cultures. Harry's _exciting_ trips usually involved the journey to Hogwarts. That was about it. The Dursleys had never taken him with them when they went on holiday, which Harry supposed he should actually be thankful for.

It was well after noon when they left. Hermione demanded to see where he had bought the pastries, so they Apparated to a tiny delicatessen in Aix-En-Provence in the south of France. Hermione loved the place so much that they ended up spending the afternoon visiting art museums and taking walks along the cobbled streets. They even did a very muggle thing and made a wish by tossing a coin into a famous fountain in the middle of the town's centre.

"What did you wish for?" Harry had to ask, as they walked away.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," she pointed out, her attention drifting to something in the window of the store they were walking past. "You know that."

Harry kept his eyes on her. "Okay, but at least tell me this: does it have anything to do with me?"

Hermione stopped walking so she could look at him properly. "Harry, you have to know that it has everything to do with you by now." That was the last she would say on the subject as she released his hand and went on ahead.

Harry followed slowly, keeping the distance between them as he thought about her words. What could she possibly have wished for? Harry wondered about it right until the moment he realised that he probably wouldn't have told her what he wished for either.

Next on their European tour, they Apparated to a small Italian town called Sorrento. Harry had once read about it in a travel book his Aunt Petunia kept around the house. It was famous for its festivals and celebrating so many cultures. As he expected, Hermione quickly fell in love. He had noticed that the bistros and restaurants had their chairs facing the streets, which he found quite amazing. People could wine and dine while they watched others stroll by.

He and Hermione ended up having dinner on the bay, looking out at the setting sun over the deep blue sea. Harry was pleased with himself at the fact that Hermione looked relaxed. Her shoulders weren't their usual tense and her eyes weren't darting around, fearing their next attack.

As planned, just minutes before ten o'clock, they Apparated to the Acropolis in Athens. Harry wasn't expecting to find Ron waiting. Not so soon after he had left. He just hoped that their friend would return safely to them when he decided it was time.

"One more stop?" Hermione suggested as they stood and looked out and down at the city of Athens. It appeared untouchable, impenetrable.

"Anywhere specific?"

Hermione was tempted to say the word 'Home' but she just managed to stop herself. She had no idea where that was right now. Well, no, right now her home was with Harry and she wouldn't have had it any other way. "What about Barcelona?" she eventually suggested.

Harry nodded. "Well, it definitely wouldn't be a European adventure without a visit to Spain."

Hermione fell in love with the lights. Using electricity just made a lot of sense to her. It was convenient and much safer than open fires, but that was just her. They walked the busy streets, hand in hand, taking in all they could before the day was officially over. Because, as soon as they woke up in the morning, it was back to the Horcrux hunt and this day would only be a memory.

"Over there," Harry said, tugging on her hand and pulling her towards a store he spotted. "Look what they've got."

Hermione took a moment to recognise the large machine as a photo booth.

Harry looked at her excitedly. "So we'll always remember this day among many," he explained.

There was little argument from her as he moved the curtain and pulled her in, sliding over the seat until they were in position. She leaned into him when he put his arm around her shoulders. They didn't plan their pictures, which made the final four that they ended up with particularly hilarious. She could still feel his lips on her cheek as they continued their walk into the very next day.

By the time they made it to bed, it was already after two o'clock in the morning. They lay facing each other, each of them smiling uncontrollably at how wonderful a day they had just had.

"Thank you for tonight," Hermione told him. "I really do appreciate it, Harry. I don't think you would even comprehend how much."

"I'm just so glad, and happy," he admitted. "I just wanted to ease your mind, even for one day."

She kept her eyes on his face. Even as he looked at her, she could have sworn she was falling even more in love with him. If that was even possible.

"Hermione, why are you crying?" Harry eventually asked, his voice so soft it couldn't even be considered a whisper.

She hadn't even realised she was. "Umm," she sounded, feeling his fingers wipe away her surprising tears. "With everything going on," she said, snuggling closer into him. "I just wish that every day could be like this."

"Who says it can't?"

* * *

Days passed with no news of Ron. Harry didn't really allow himself to worry until they had returned from the Acropolis on the tenth night without a word from their friend. It was starting to become too dangerous to stay in the same place, and their continual appearance in Athens could eventually give them away.

"Where is he?" Hermione asked, once they entered the tent after another expedition to the beautiful land of the Greeks. "Do you think he forgot? No, he wouldn't forget. He said one week tops, Harry."

"I know," he said softly.

"It's been almost two weeks."

"I know."

"What if he never even made it to Charlie? What if Snatchers found him? What if he's hurt? He wouldn't be able to heal himself."

"I know," he repeated.

Her brow creased. "Well, then, what don't you know then?" she asked harshly.

He didn't take offence. All he did was put out his hand. After a moment, she removed the locket from around her neck and handed it to him. They had decided early on that they would swop the wearer of the locket at the first sign of irritation. Then he enclosed her in a tight hug. "I'm sure he's fine, Hermione," he tried to ease her worry, his hand stroking her hair. "Maybe the food is just too good at Charlie's."

She let out a laugh cry against his chest. "He better bring us some."

To calm her down further, Harry suggested they take a walk. It was something liked to do together, to feel the cold wind on their faces, like some kind of reminder that they were both still alive. While walking, they came across a band of fugitives. Snatchers maybe. Harry couldn't tell. What did interest him was their topic of conversation.

"Maybe that's why he hasn't turned up," Harry whispered to Hermione. "Ginny's in trouble."

"And Neville," she said sadly.

"And Luna."

As they continued to listen, it all started to make sense to Hermione. "Why didn't I think of that before?" she asked herself, shaking her head.

Harry had to admit that he found her irritation with herself quite adorable. "What does a group of Hogwarts students trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from Snape's office have to do with anything?"

"Come on," she said, grabbing hold of his hand and rushing back to the tent. Once inside, she headed straight to a stack of books on the table and scoured them for what she was looking for. "Think about it, Harry. The Sword of Gryffindor. It's made by goblins, which means it's enchanted."

He waited, not quite sure what she was trying to tell him. "Okay..."

"No, you don't understand. Items made by goblins take in only that which makes them stronger," she explained, finding the book she was looking for and opening it to a page. "Look."

Harry stared at the words on the page but there still seemed to be a large piece missing in his understanding. "Okay..."

She huffed. "You've already destroyed one Horcrux, right?"

He nodded. "Tom Riddle's diary in the Chamber of Secrets. Yes, but Hermione, that was with a Basilisk's fang. If you're about to tell me you have one of those in your little bag of tricks, then we're definitely going to have to reconsider this relationship."

She ignored his comment. "Don't you see? Harry, you stabbed the Basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. And because it takes in what makes it stronger, its blade is now impregnated with Basilisk venom."

When the realisation hit him, his face broke out into a wide grin. "Which is why it can destroy Horcruxes."

"Exactly. That's why Dumbledore left it to you in his will. He knew you would need it." She took a relieved breath. "See, Harry, he didn't really leave you without a way to destroy them. We just hadn't figured it out yet."

That just extended his smile. "You are brilliant, Hermione. Truly."

"Actually, I'm highly logical, which allows me to..."

He cut her off. "Just take the compliment, please," he said, still grinning. Then: "But how do we get our hands on it? Wasn't it stolen?"

She let out a long breath. "You won't even allow me to have this little victory, will you?"

"It's always going to be like this, Hermione," he said sadly. "As soon as we answer one question; we find a whole lot more."

"Nobody said it was going to be easy."

"I just didn't think it would be this difficult."

"You're killing my positivity with your negativity. Stop."

At that, he had to smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The decision to leave their current position was particularly hard on Hermione because, once they were gone, the only way to find Ron again would be if he turned up at their originally decided meeting point. And, as yet, he hadn't.

Before they left, Hermione tied one of her scarves around a tree. She didn't know why she did it exactly but it felt like the thing to do. As soon as they appeared in their new spot, the finality of it brought tears to her eyes. Not wanting Harry to see, she turned away, while he proceeded to put up their wards and enchantments. He also put up the tent while she stood staring out into the gorge below them.

Harry hadn't wanted to leave, really, but their safety was his main priority. Ron would find them. He was sure of it. In the mean time, he and Hermione just had to figure out where the Sword was or who had it.

That evening was a quiet one. While Hermione sat at the table reading, with the radio on by her side; Harry lay on his bed with the snitch flying right in front of his face. He was thinking about Dumbledore. He wouldn't say his faith in the man was restored, but there was a smaller part of him that was angry with the fallen Headmaster. While he lay there, his mind soon drifted to Godric's Hollow. The old lady from the wedding had said that Dumbledore had lived there. Harry just didn't know why the man hadn't mentioned that he had once lived in the very place Harry's parents had been brutally murdered.

He pushed the thoughts away, rather returning his attention to the snitch. Why had Dumbledore left it to him? It had to mean something. Without thinking about it too much, he took hold of it with his fingers and the wings retracted. Harry pressed the small golden ball to his lips, mindful of the fact that he had actually first caught it with his mouth all those years ago.

Eventually he pulled it away and waited. He didn't have to wait long though. Slowly, words appeared in the gold, making his eyes widen.

 _I open at the close._

He sat up immediately. "Hermione! Hermione!" He jumped to up to go find her, carrying the snitch with him. She looked quite shocked to see him, eyes red and worried. "You were right," he said, not commenting on her demeanour. "Snitches do have flesh memories, but I didn't catch the first snitch with my hand..."

"You almost swallowed it," she finished for him.

"Look," he said, handing the snitch to her.

In Hermione-like fashion, she studied it intensely as Harry sat down beside her. "I open at the close," she read aloud. "What do you think that means?"

He shook his head. "I thought you were the one with all the answers."

She tilted her head, visibly thinking. "Hmm. I really don't know," she finally admitted. "Although, I did find something else."

"What?"

She hesitated. "In the book Dumbledore left to me, I found a sketch of something," she began, reaching for the mentioned book. "It's not part of the printing; it's actually drawn in. I thought it was a rune at first, but it doesn't appear anywhere. I wonder, have you ever seen this before?"

Harry stared at the inked in symbol for a long moment, trying to place it. "It looks familiar," he admitted. "I know I've seen it before. Umm, I just can't remember if it was in my own mind or in You-Know-Who's."

She swallowed. "That's all right. It also looks familiar to me. And it's a memory attached to Krum, which really worries me. But, excuse my positivity, I'm sure we'll figure it out."

Harry used the slight smile on her face to bring up the idea of visiting Godric's Hollow, even mentioning that it was the place he was born and where his parents died.

Even so, Hermione quickly shut down that idea. "That's exactly what he expects, Harry. You'd go because it means something to you."

"No, we'd go because it means something to him. He almost died there, which makes it the type of place he would likely have created a Horcrux."

Hermione just stared at him, trying to ignore the desperate pleading look on his face. His words struck a cord with her. Wasn't that the truth? It made her insides twist.

Harry continued. "There's probably one hidden there."

"It's too dangerous, Harry." Then: "But even I have to admit that we might not have a choice." She reached for a different book to show him something. "I've been reading _A History of Magic_ again."

"Of course."

Ignoring him, she continued: "And Bathilda Bagshot wrote quite a bit about the Sword. Godric Gryffindor was also born in Godric's Hollow, and it makes sense that that's where the Sword would be. I think that Dumbledore must have known you would want to go there, and he might have left the Sword with Bathilda to give to you."

Harry tried not to get too excited until she confirmed it. "So you think we should go?"

She nodded. "It'll be dangerous for sure, so I'm going to need some time to plan before we go, okay? We'll have to use the Invisibility Cloak... umm, and the Polyjuice Potion we have left over."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'll agree to the Cloak, but no to the Polyjuice Potion. It's where I was born; I don't want to return as someone else."

"Okay."

* * *

It took Hermione a little over a week to be comfortable enough with their plan. They had practiced Apparating and Disapparating under the Invisibility Cloak at nauseam. They used their nightly trips to Athens as extra practice, but continually returned disappointed. Still no sign of Ron.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked.

"As I'll ever be."

He put out his hand, which she took willingly, and he covered them with the Cloak. Before they knew it, they had appeared in an empty street of Godric's Hollow. The falling snow was sticking to the ground below their feet, which left dishevelled snow as they walked.

"Do you hear that?" Hermione whispered as they walked. "The singing?"

Harry listened. "It's coming from the church."

Hermione risked a smile. "I think it's Christmas Eve, Harry?"

That made him smile, but for only a moment. His eyes drifted past the church to the graveyard behind it. His heart started to beat that bit faster. "Do you think my parents are in there?" he asked softly. "I mean, it makes sense if they were because of the war memorial for them, but..." his voice trailed off. In all his years, he'd never been to visit his parents' graves.

"They probably are. We should go in," she said, so he wouldn't have to ask.

They walked past many graves with names Hermione vaguely recognised. There were some with the name Dumbledore but the one that really caught her attention was a name she didn't know. The tomb stone, though, had the same symbol from the book. _"_ Ignotus Peverell."

Harry shook his head at her questioning tone. "Don't know."

When they came to the graves of James and Lily Potter, Harry's body stiffened. For a while, neither of them said anything. At some point, Hermione took out her wand and conjured flowers for Harry to place on their graves. He moved slowly, soaking in the moment. In his mind, it was only fitting that he had returned with Hermione.

When he stood up straight again, he turned his head to look at her. "I'm certain they would have loved you," he said strongly, even though she could hear the tears in his voice. "Almost as much as I do."

In response, she leant her head against his shoulder, squeezing the hand of his she was already holding.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

They descended into the type of comfortable silence they were known for. It lasted about two minutes before Hermione noticed a figure looking directly at them, which was near impossible. They were under the Invisibility Cloak. They couldn't be seen.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "Someone is staring at us."

When he looked up, the figure beckoned them with a hand. "Do you think it's Bathilda?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know. I don't know what she looks like."

Still under the Invisibility Cloak, they made their way towards the figure, which became clearer as they got closer. Indeed, the figure was an old woman. Without thinking about it too much, he removed the Cloak from himself, but kept it over Hermione. Then he addressed the woman. "Are you Bathilda Bagshot?"

At her nod, Harry followed as she led the way towards and into a dark and dirty house. It smelt awful, and Harry had to resist the urge to gag. He followed her in further, aware of Hermione's presence behind him. They passed through a corridor which had pictures on the walls. One such picture caught Harry's attention. He knew the face. Well, Voldemort knew the face.

Harry asked questions of the woman, who did not respond to a word he said. Instead, she used her hand to indicate for Harry to follow her upstairs. Of course, he hesitated, but then maybe she was taking him to the sword. Before he climbed the first step, he put a hand out to make sure Hermione stayed behind.

Once upstairs and away from Hermione, the woman finally spoke. "You are Potter?"

His scar burned when she spoke, and the locket around his neck started to pulse faster, but he just managed to ignore it enough to speak.

At Harry's confirmation, things happened quite quickly. Following a dirty distraction where Harry was instructed to search for the Sword, the woman before him split open and a long snake emerged. Harry's immediate reaction was shock, and disgust. He reached for his wand just as the snake struck, biting into his arm. He now knew why his scar was burning. The snake knocked his wand out of his hand, and he staggered back, reaching to hold his uninjured hand over the bite.

"He's coming!" Harry screamed, just as the snake started to coil around him. "Hermione, he's coming!"

The fight lasted a mere minute, really. Hermione rushed upstairs and sent Jinxes and Curses the snake's way, which eventually managed to free Harry. He immediately moved towards Hermione, eventually pulling her away from the snake. Her last Blasting Curse was enough to allow them to escape through a broken window and Apparate to somewhere safe: the Forest of Dean.

When they appeared, Harry was writhing in pain and his head was moving from left to right quite violently. He was trying his hardest not to scream. For a moment, Hermione was frozen. She couldn't move as she kneeled beside him, staring as the pain was claiming him from the inside out. When he did eventually let out a cry of pain, unable to hold it in any longer; it snapped her back to reality. She noticed the snake bit on his arm first, and the glowing on his chest second. She ripped open his shirt and used a charm to remove the locket, before she started to heal the snake bite.

It took a while for his body to stop moving, and he eventually passed out from exhaustion. Or from pain, Hermione wouldn't know. She set up camp and protected them with enchantments while he slept. Why had they gone? She knew it was always going to be a bad idea!

It felt like years before he finally woke up. Hermione hadn't slept a wink in that time, determined to be awake when he finally did. He was slow to get up, immediately going in search of water. He found Hermione outside, sitting against a tree, with a pot of boiling water over a fire and a book in her lap.

"Hey," he said softly, as he approached.

Hermione was up and giving him a bone-crushing hug before she could say a word more. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said, hot breath against his neck. When she released him, she noticed how unfocused he looked. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit dizzy now, thank you," he answered with a mild smile.

"Sorry," she said innocently, eventually biting her bottom lip as she stepped away from him.

"Where are we?" he asked curiously, as she returned to her position sitting against the tree.

"The Forest of Dean," she explained. "I came here with my parents some years ago. It's remained exactly the same: the trees, the river, everything. It's just amazing how nothing has changed at all, while nearly everything else has. Including me." He just listened as she continued, moving to sit down on a large rock opposite her. "Maybe we should just stay here, Harry," she said sadly. "Grow old. Just live."

Even as she said it, Harry could tell she didn't mean it. Or, she didn't want to mean it. They couldn't stay hidden forever.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked.

"A while."

He just nodded. "You should get some rest," he offered. "I'll stand watch and protect us from the Big Bad Wolf." Before she could respond, he went on. "Speaking of which, where's my wand?"

The look on her face told him he wasn't going to like what she was about to say.

"Hermione, where's my wand?" he repeated.

Reluctantly, she revealed the wand that was now in two pieces on the floor under a piece of cloth beside her. "It got hit with the ricochet of my Blasting Curse when we escaped Godric's Hollow," she admitted. "I'm sorry. I've been trying to mend it but wands are difficult."

"It's fine," Harry said curtly.

"You're mad," she said softly. "And I think you have a right to be."

He shook his head. "I don't. And it's fine, really, Hermione. I should be thanking you for saving my life. If my wand is the only thing that died during our encounter with You-Know-Who's snake; I'd say our trip was rather successful."

Hermione risked a smile.

"Leave me your wand," he said. "You should go inside and get warm, get some rest. I'll take the locket as well."

She looked at him sceptically. "Are you sure you're up for it?"

He nodded.

Before she went inside, Hermione moved to kneel in front of him. "I need you to make me a promise, Harry."

He nodded once more, his nose and ears already starting to feel numb in the cold.

"Don't die."

He swallowed. "I don't think that's a promise I can make, Hermione."

She sighed. "Then promise you'll try your hardest not to."

That, he could do. "I promise." He leaned forward to kiss her, feeling her worry for him transmit through her lips. "And miss out on a life with you, how could I not?"

It was, of course, something he thought about when she eventually went inside. He thought about their visit to Godric's Hollow as he sat in the light of the setting sun, trying to determine if they had actually learned anything useful. Something had to make the visit worth it. Anything. Well, he did see the young man from Voldemort's thoughts again. It was a relief that he was actually a real person, and Harry hadn't just been shown fictional things again.

It was later, when Harry was starting to get tired, that he saw it. It was a familiar light that he was convinced he was imagining at first. The snake bite might actually be causing hallucinations. It took Harry a while to figure out that it was actually a real Patronus; not one that he recognised though. What he did know was that it was definitely there for him.

Several thoughts came to his mind at once. Eventually, he stood up and went inside to wake Hermione. The entire point of having her with him was that he didn't have to do things alone. And he had no idea who had sent the Patronus anyway. It could have been a trap. He just hoped it would still be there when they went back outside.

It took Hermione a moment to get dressed, before the two of them followed the Patronus through the woods towards a frozen body of water. Once there, the light dwindled from the shape of what looked like a doe into a small ball hovering over the frozen top.

Harry stepped towards the water's edge to peer down under the ice. He had to bend to wipe away some snow off the surface. At the glinting sight at the bottom, he actually smiled. "There it is," he said, turning to Hermione.

"What?"

"The Sword of Gryffindor."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"You're not seriously going into the water, are you?" Hermione asked in mild horror as she watched Harry begin to remove his clothes.

Harry started to shiver as soon as his first layer came off. "Well, I don't suppose you're going to go in, are you?" He was met with silence. "That's what I thought. And calling for it isn't working. I don't see any other way." He removed the locket from around his neck and handed it to her.

"Ron would tell you this is mental," she said, hanging the locket around her own neck. "But then he'd still let you do it."

"You're channeling him quite well there, Hermione," he said, unbuckling his belt. "Close your eyes; you're about to see things."

She had to laugh. "And what exactly am I about to see? How pale my boyfriend actually is."

He almost tripped getting his legs out of his jeans. "I'm about to dive into freezing cold water and you're mocking me. Show some compassion, Hermione."

"Nobody's making you."

He just shook his head, as he threw his clothes aside, leaving only his briefs on his body. He was already shivering, his teeth halfway to clattering. "Crack the ice, would you?"

Hermione walked with him a few metres before she raised her wand. "Diffindo." Slowly, the ice practically dissolved away, leaving a perfectly sized hole. "Be careful," she warned him, before she backed away.

Harry's heart was already beating so fast that when he first dipped one leg in, and then the other, he didn't even notice that his heart rate picked up at the blistering cold. He sat on the iced surface with his legs dangling in the water for a moment, just to build up the courage. _You have to get the sword,_ he told himself. "Three, two, one," he counted himself down, took a deep breath and disappeared into the water.

Hermione watched as his sudden entrance displaced dark water, that came flowing out of the hole she created. She told herself that she would give him a minute, and then she would go in after him. So she started counting out loud, mainly to keep her mind occupied. She, like Harry, hated waiting. Especially if it entailed waiting for Harry to reemerge from a frozen lake with a Sword that they hoped would destroy the Horcrux that was now pulsing quite profusely against her chest. It was as if it was sensing what was going to happen once Harry returned.

The sword appeared out of the hole in the ice first, and then Harry's head. "Victory is mine," he exclaimed, which made her laugh. He climbed out of the water as quickly as he could, and shuffled towards her, trying his best not to slip. As he got closer, she swore the locket started to hiss. Before she could get a word out about what was going on, the locket flew up and behind her, pulling her to the ground by the neck.

Her hands shot to her neck, trying to ease the choke hold the chain of the locket had her under.

"Hermione!" she heard Harry scream. He slipped in his hurry to get to her, falling to his knees and slicing some skin. "Hermione," he yelled as he managed to get up, quickly forgetting the cold. He came to kneel at her side and tried to get the chain off but he wasn't strong enough. He tried to lift the actual locket but all it seemed to want was to get away from them.

"Th - the," Hermione tried to get out, as she struggled to breathe. "Sw - swo - rd."

Harry looked to his right. The Sword. It took a lot of willpower for him to leave her holding onto the chain herself as he picked up the Sword. Without much thought, he brought the sword down hard on the chain nearest the actual locket. It cut rather easily, and the locket seemed to lose all will to get away. The hissing stopped quite suddenly and they were plunged into deafening silence. Harry didn't like the silence, mainly because it meant Hermione wasn't trying to catch her breath.

He scrambled towards her. "Hermione," he said, his cold fingers moving to touch the skin of her face. "Hey, breathe," he said, using his fingers to gently slap her cheek, as if the action would wake her. "Hermione, breathe. Open your eyes. Hermione!" he practically begged, his head dropping as he started to shake her entire body. "Hermione, please! Please! Open your eyes! Breathe!"

The first breath she took was a big one, bringing a halt to his own breathing. She was breathing.

Harry looked at her. Her eyes were open. Before he knew it, he was crying out of relief. "Don't do that to me ever again," he said, letting the emotion get the better of him.

Slowly, she sat up with his help. She examined her neck with her own fingers, grimacing at times. She cleared her throat before she attempted to speak. "It, it sensed the, uh, sword," she forced out, relieved that her voice still worked. "What - whatever is inside knows you're going to destroy it."

He shook his head. "You weren't breathing," he said softly.

She touched his cheek. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm fine. Now, please can you put your clothes on before _you're_ the one who stops breathing."

He glared at her in the moonlight.

"Too soon?"

Harry didn't respond as he stood up and went to locate his clothes. Hermione slowly rose to her feet and retrieved the locket; the thing that almost killed her. She moved towards Harry just as he was putting on his woollen jersey. He was shivering quite uncontrollably, teeth chattering and lips blue. She decided that she would make him sleep next to a fire tonight.

"Let's destroy that damn thing," Harry eventually said, referring to the locket in her hands.

Hermione set it down on a large rock while Harry fetched the Sword. She couldn't wait to have it out of their lives once and for all.

"I'm going to have to open it," he said. "Are you going to be able to handle whatever it shows you?"

Hermione knew what he was asking. The locket would show her the fears in her heart. She wasn't worried about that. That, she was sure, she would be able to handle. What she wouldn't be able to handle was Harry knowing what they were. The boy knew that she loved him but she was quite certain he didn't quite know just how deeply. Were either of them ready for that truth?

"Hermione?" Harry prompted.

"I can handle it," she said strongly.

He handed her the hilt of the Sword, their hands touching. He gave her a moment before he coerced the locket open, speaking in Parseltongue. He commanded it to open. When the locket burst open, it knocked both Harry and Hermione back. Hermione just managed to stay on her feet as a voice filled the space between her and the locket.

"I have seen your dreams, Hermione Granger," the locket's voice hissed; "and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible... The hatred of your parents when they learn of what you have done." An image of Hermione's parents appeared to her. Each of them had angry disappointed looks on their face.

"How could you do this to us?" Hermione's mother asked in the moving image. "You promised you would never use magic on us."

Her father wasn't even looking in Hermione's direction.

"You should go. We don't want you here." The coldness in her voice made Hermione's breath catch.

The image started to change, and the locket's own hissing voice was back. "The death of your one true love, Harry Potter," it spat. One of her biggest fears. "He's going to die, because you won't be able to save him." Before she knew it, she was staring at Harry's cold, lifeless body. She could hear a hymn being sung in the background as she stared at the unmoving body of the boy she loved. It kept her frozen, drawing her in and pulling on her heartstrings. She couldn't move.

At some point, she felt a cold hand close over her own that was holding the Sword. Her eyes drifted to her right. Harry stood, looking at her. "I'm right here," he said. "That's not me. I'm right here. I'm alive."

Hermione blinked a few times, returning her attention to the image being presented to her. "It's not real," she whispered to herself. Then, using all her strength, she lifted and swung the Sword down onto the open locket. It exploded with a bright spark before they were thrown into deafening silence again. She just stared at the destroyed locket, hating it with all of her might.

"You did it, Hermione," Harry said through his shivering.

At the sound of his voice, she moved towards him, dropping the Sword to the ground. She buried herself in his neck, her hands on his chest. His arms moved to around her shoulders and he held her tight.

"I think you're really doing this for my benefit," he said after a while, kissing her hair. "It's a known fact that the best way to warm a person up is body heat."

Hermione laugh cried at that as she pulled herself away so she could look at him. "You definitely are the worst."

He pulled her into a hug again. "You destroyed it," he said again. "You did it. You destroyed it, and I'm letting you have your little victory."

"Because we have three more to locate, retrieve and destroy, right?"

Harry exaggerated a gasp. "Ease up on the negativity, Granger. You're diluting my positivity."

"Oh hush," she reprimanded. "Come on, we should get you inside before you catch a cold. That's the last thing we need."

The walk back to the tent was slow. Harry couldn't ignore the stinging on his cut knees or the cold that was attacking his bones anymore, as he forced one foot in front of the other. At a certain point, Hermione gasped.

He turned to her. "What? What?"

"What time is it?"

Harry had absolutely no idea. "It's definitely past ten o'clock," he said, acknowledging that it was now too late to Apparate to the Acropolis to check for Ron. "I think he'll forgive us one night, Hermione," he said, trying to ease the heavy-set frown that appeared on her face. "We did actually destroy a Horcrux, you know?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment. After the events of the evening, her next thought made complete sense to her. "Maybe you should send your Patronus to look for him," she suggested. "Lead him here."

Harry considered that. "Will it work?"

Hermione moved towards her famous piles of books. "Witches and wizards have been known to use them. Mr Weasley used it to let us know they were all safe. Someone sent that doe to you, leading you to the Sword. It's worth a try."

He just nodded. "It is," he agreed. "Have you got your wand?"

She nodded, removing it from her wrist holster and held it out for him to take.

Harry just looked at her, forcing himself to keep a straight face. "Well, go on then. It was your idea."

She glared at him. "You know full well this is the only spell I struggle with. It's very, very advanced magic."

Harry cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say? Do you mind repeating that?"

"Do you want to get hit?"

Harry just laughed as he took the wand from her. "You know, the fact that you do struggle with it really hurts my feelings," he said, only semi-seriously. "Don't I make you happy?"

Hermione couldn't actually tell if he was being serious or not. Even so, she definitely was. "You do make me happy, Harry. Very happy. But right now, every time I think of you, all I see is-" her voice caught with the emotion of the memory.

Harry swallowed, finishing for her. "... My dead body."

Hermione moved towards him and wrapped her arms around him, suddenly needing to make sure he really was still alive and well. When she finally released him, there were tears in her eyes. "What a night, huh?"

"Definitely," he agreed.

"Now go be happy, and bring our best friend home."

* * *

It took two days for any news about Ron to reach them. Hermione remained hopeful, even though she made sure she remained realistic. There were still things they didn't know about Patronuses and there was no way to know if it had actually worked.

"Hermione!" Harry called out from in front of the tent, two days after he sent his stag Patronus after his best friend.

She rushed out, not recognising his tone of voice. "What? Is everything okay?" she hurried her questions.

He was grinning. "Better than okay," he said rather excitedly. "Look who's here."

Hermione's eyes drifted to a space behind him where Ron stood, looking sheepish.

And guilty.

"Hey," he said, his shoulders rising and falling.

Her first instinct was to rush and fling her arms around him, but she hesitated, allowing her anger to take over. "Ronald Weasley," she barked, moving towards him with purpose. "Where on earth have you been?" she demanded.

Ron took an involuntary step back as she reached him, hitting her closed fist hard against his arm.

"You had me worried sick!" she said hotly. "It's been weeks of radio silence and all you say is hey!"

"Well, what do you expect me to say?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Where have you been? How did you find us? Why didn't you come to the Acropolis?"

That's when Harry decided to speak up, coming to his friend's rescue. "Why don't we go inside and Ron can tell us all about it from a safe distance," he suggested, amusement in his tone.

"Sounds like an idea," Ron agreed, his hand moving to rub the point on his arm that Hermione had hit.

She huffed, looking from one boy to the other. "Fine. I'll put on a pot of tea."

"As long as you don't burn me with it," Ron said, risking a smile.

"Don't tempt me," she muttered before she headed back and into the tent.

Ron started to follow but Harry put his arm out to stop him. "Maybe give her a minute to cool off," he suggested.

Ron just nodded.

Harry just kept his eyes on his best friend, smiling like an idiot. "She wasn't the only one who was worried, you know? Gosh, am I glad to see you!"

"It's good to be back too," Ron admitted. "You have to know I didn't intend on being gone so long. It just couldn't be helped."

"I gathered as much."

"I just wanted to give you and Hermione a few days alone, you know, so you could enjoy your anniversary without the third wheel around."

Harry frowned. "You know you didn't have to do that."

"I know, but I wanted to." He started to grin. "So, how was the anniversary anyway?"

Harry wasn't sure what to make of his facial expression. "Umm, it was great. We went quite a few places, like you suggested. It was quite lovely actually."

Ron waited. "I don't care about any of that stuff. I need to know if my mate has officially become a man."

Harry was still frowning, clearly not understanding.

"You know," Ron said, raising his eyebrows. "Did you, _you know_?"

When the realisation hit him, Harry gasped. "Oh my God, Ron, what kind of question is that?"

Ron eyed him. His friend flushed red, but it was more out of embarrassment at the question than anything. "You didn't?" Ron asked curiously. "What? You really didn't?"

Harry kept his lips pressed together, determined not to say anything.

"Wow," he said, breathing out. "Are you trying to tell me that you and Hermione spent weeks alone in a tent, cut off from the entire world and you didn't even, _you know_?"

Still, Harry said nothing.

Ron didn't drop his gaze, his eyes narrowing. "You did, didn't you? You actually did!"

Harry laughed. He actually laughed. "Seriously, Ron, aren't you the one who made it abundantly clear to me that you wanted to know nothing about what Hermione did or didn't do in _that_ regard?"

"So you didn't?"

Harry just continued to smile. "Come on, we should go in before she comes back out and guts you."

Ron just stood, watching his friend head towards the tent. "Wait, so you actually did?" He received silence. "Wait. Are you really not going to tell me? Harry?"

Harry disappeared into the tent, ending that line of questioning completely.

"Seriously?" Ron followed. "Seriously."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Ron made them tell them what they had been up to while he was away before he dove into his story. Harry and Hermione explained how long they waited for him, their nightly trips to Athens and their horrific visit to Godric's Hollow. Harry admitted his thoughts about Dumbledore, that had Ron just nodding. Hermione added what they had learnt, which was actually very little once she got talking.

"Do you mind showing me the symbol?" Ron offered. "I might recognise it." The amazing thing was that he actually did. "I mean, I don't know what it is or anything, but I remember seeing Luna's father wearing it around his neck at the wedding."

Hermione pondered that for a moment, not too sure what to make of that new piece of information. Eventually, she set it aside and paid attention to Ron as he prepared to detail his adventures over the past few weeks.

"First of all, can I just point out that my lone wolf exploration appears to have turned up more than your double visit to Godric's Hollow?" Ron said, laughing at his own joke. "Just putting it out there."

Hermione was not amused. "Tell us what happened," she prompted.

The three of them opted for the floor. It was an unspoken decision as they all settled on the carpet in the middle of the tent's common area. Hermione shifted until she was comfortable, even removing the scarf from around her neck.

Ron's eyes immediately settled on the bruising on her neck. "Merlin, Hermione, what the hell?"

"Oh," she said, clearly embarrassed. "We may have played down the whole destroying of the Horcrux. It turned out to be a lot more taxing than either of us anticipated."

Ron just stared. "That looks like it hurts. A lot."

Hermione shook her head. "It really doesn't. It looks a lot worse than it really is. Honestly."

Ron seemed to accept that, even risking a smile. "For a moment there, I thought Harry had given you a love bite to make the entire world jealous."

Harry shot him a look, which only made Ron laugh.

Then, more seriously, Ron asked, "Do you think he knows? Do you think You-Know-Who knows we're hunting Horcruxes; that we're actually destroying them?"

It was a question directed at Harry and he would be the one to answer it. "No," he said, strongly, rather confidently. "I would know if he knew."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her position at the sound of his words. She continually told him to keep Voldemort out of his head but he consistently chose to ignore it. It hurt him, she could see, whenever Voldemort accessed his mind but what really bothered her was that, if Harry could see what Voldemort was doing; surely he could as well.

"Then at least we've got a one up on him there," Ron said before he exaggerated a sigh. "So, let me finally tell you what happened. When I left, I headed straight to Charlie's," Ron finally began. "To say he was surprised to see me is quite the understatement. He thought that I had just left you guys and didn't intend on coming back. How crazy is that idea? I could never just leave you guys, no matter how frustrated I get."

Hermione touched his arm with her hand.

Ron continued. "So I ended up spending a few days with him. It was only going to be like a week, tops, I swear, but then we got news of what happened at Hogwarts. I din't know if you heard but Ginny, Neville and Luna got caught trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor, which incidentally isn't even the real one, because the real one is right here." He took a breath. "Anyway, Mum wrote to Charlie about it and he wanted to go. The Ministry was planning a punishment for them. And if they caught on to why they were trying to steal the Sword, the punishment could have been a lot worse.

"I ended up going to stay with Bill and Fleur for a while, just to make sure the family was all safe. It was so weird again; they both thought I had abandoned you guys. I mean, is that the kind of person I appear to be? Why is it that everyone thinks I would just leave? Do you guys think that?"

Harry was quick to respond. "No, Ron. Of course not. This whole thing has been hard on all of us. We're all going to complain and want to go home, but we're in it for the long-haul. We just have to keep going."

Ron nodded. "Exactly. As long as you both know." He seemed to relax. "Once I was sure everyone was safe - well, as safe as they could be with the brewing war around them - I left. I stupidly had this craving for Butterbear," he admitted, sounding embarrassed. "So I headed to this pub, and I lost track of time because it was too late to head to our meeting point. Or too early. I don't even know. The whole time difference thing can really mess with a person's head.

"So I ended up spending the night, you know. But at some point this rowdy group came in. They were talking about Muggle-borns and the latest one they'd caught. I knew I had to get out of there, you know? So I snuck out the back, but they managed to get me."

"Were they Snatchers?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening.

He nodded. "They're everywhere," Ron explained. "Dirty gangs trying to get gold by rounding up Muggle-borns and blood traitors. They're getting to be as bad as Death Eaters, the entitled pricks."

Hermione blinked a few times. "How did they get their hands on you?"

"I discovered the hard way about the Taboo curse on You-Know-Who's name," he said, visibly remembering. "I was hiding out in an abandoned building, and I guess I must have spoken his name. Charlie had mentioned it to me before, but I didn't quite understand the severity when he said that the name is jinxed."

"Jinxed?" Harry queried.

Ron nodded. "Using his name breaks protective enchantments," he further explained. "It causes some kind of magical disturbance, and it alerts the caster as to where the speaker is located. It's why Kingsley Shacklebolt is on the run right now. They've been tracking Order members like that. And I heard on the radio, they're referring to You-Know-Who as Chief Death Eater now. Better to be safe."

"You got caught by Snatchers?" Hermione had to ask for clarification. At his nod, she leaned forward. "Oh my God, are you okay? What did they do to you? Did they take you to the Ministry? How did you escape?"

Ron waited a moment before he began his reply. "The fact that I'm here right now means that I'm fine," he said. "They roughed me up a little, you know. They wanted to know why I had said their Master's name and, for the life of me, I couldn't come up with anything good. I managed to give them a fake name but they wanted to check it out before they bothered the Ministry with me. Apparently, a red-headed wizard is quite the puzzle.

"They took me to this old house and locked me in some room. There were two others being held there; both Muggle-borns. I'm apparently what they call a blood traitor. Anyway, I was there for a few days before they moved us to a new place. You won't believe this but I swear I heard Snape's voice at some point. Mental, right? The new place was a lot bigger and Trevor, Rebecca - the other prisoners - and I managed to come up with a plan to escape. We failed the first time, mainly because there was a guard change because of some issue with The Quibbler."

"Isn't that the paper Luna's father writes?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded. "He's been stirring up quite a lot with what he's writing. Bill mentioned that Dad was going to visit him before things got out of hand. It's too dangerous to say whatever you want about You-Know-Who." He nodded thoughtfully. "So the day after the guard change, we implemented our plan. It wasn't anything special but I reckon you'd both be proud," he said, sitting up straighter. "The whole of Dumbledore's Army would be proud. We stunned our way right out of there, after luring the dim-witted guard into the room. It was beautiful."

Hermione just shook her head at how excited he appeared. "All three of you managed to escape?"

Ron's eyes darkened. "Trevor took a nasty hit. Rebecca Diapparated with him immediately after that. They left, but I knew I had to get my things. I don't know if they're okay. I hope they are. But I managed to nab a few things on my way out," he said, reaching for his bag and starting to dig through it, searching through his clutter. "Got a few wands here, Harry," he said. "Nothing special, I'm afraid, but one of them'll have to do." He pulled out three wands, each of them smaller than Harry's usual one.

Harry picked one up. He was about to test it out when Hermione put a hand on his knee to stop him.

"Not inside," she warned, and he put it back down.

Ron continued searching through his bag. "Got some sweets as well, believe it or not. And, the best part, just for Hermione, an actual book." He pulled out quite a large book, and Harry just caught sight of the cover as he handed it to Hermione. _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ by Rita Skeeter. Harry couldn't help but grimace at the sight of that woman's name.

Hermione immediately opened the book, flipping through the pages. She would give it a proper read through later. She just wanted to see if there was anything particularly useful in any of the pictures or copied letters.

Harry watched the pages go by as well, as Ron's persistent search for whatever was hiding in his bag faded into the background. It went on for a few seconds, before Harry shouted, "Stop," to Hermione. "Go back a few pages," he said quickly, moving closer to her so he could get a better look.

Even Ron stopped what he was doing and leaned forward to see what was going on.

"Right there," Harry said, pointing at a portrait of a young man on page two hundred and twenty seven. "Who is that?"

Hermione read the name in the fine print at the bottom of the page. "Gellert Grindelwald."

Both Ron and Hermione turned their attentions to Harry, awaiting some form of explanation. "He's the man I saw in You-Know-Who's thoughts," Harry began. "He stole something that You-Know-Who really wants. His picture was in Bathilda's house."

Hermione took that in before she skimmed the information on the man in the picture. "It says here that he is Bathilda's great-nephew."

"Bathilda?" Ron said. "The woman that turned into a snake and tried to kill you?"

"She was already dead, Ronald," Hermione said. "The snake disguised itself as the woman."

Ron shuddered. "As if that makes it any better."

Hermione sighed. "But yes, you're right, I do mean that Bathilda. That's probably why his picture was in the house," she said to Harry. "But I just don't understand where he fits into all of this. What could he have stolen?"

Harry had no clue. He could sometimes feel the desperation Voldemort felt over not knowing where whatever he was searching for was. At least the Dark Lord knew what he was looking for. The trio still had no idea what else could be a Horcrux.

Hermione turned the pages as she read, eventually coming across a letter written to Grindelwald, from Dumbledore. What interested her was the fact that the letter was signed with the same symbol from her book, and from Luna's father's chain. It had to mean something.

"Look," she said, showing the boys. "It's the mark again."

"It keeps popping up," Ron said.

"It was even in the graveyard in Godric's Hollow," Hermione added. "Remember, Ignotus Peverell."

Harry's breath caught as he remembered. "And in You-Know-Who's thoughts. It was there as well," he said. "Outside Gregorovitch's wand shop. It's where Grindelwald found whatever he stole."

Ron rubbed his face with his hands, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Yeah, but what does any of it mean?"

Nobody had answers. The truth was that they were merely the blind leading the blind. They had no idea where the next Horcrux was, nor what it actually was. But the mark definitely meant something. It was at least a piece of something they could pursue, and hope it answered questions rather than left them with more.

Hermione eventually mentioned what they were all thinking. "We're going to visit Xenophilius Lovegood, aren't we?"

Ron beamed. "Luna!" And then stopped abruptly. "Oh, right, she's probably at school, isn't she?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's still the holidays. Isn't it Easter?"

His smile was back, wider than before. "It seems I came back just in time."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The trio set out bright and early the very next morning. At first sight of the Lovegood's home, Ron got strangely giddy, which made it all the more difficult for Hermione to remain mad at him for disappearing for so long. He had always been someone incredibly difficult to stay mad at.

"Luna," he said, as they approached.

Harry couldn't help but smile. She was definitely someone he missed.

Hermione warmed at the thought of her friend; her confidante from school. The girl held a special place in her life. She had to, because Hermione would never have revealed her true feelings for Harry to anyone who wasn't close to her. Goodness, Hermione had told Luna before she ever considered telling Harry.

However strange it was to think, the house really did resemble Luna. Even its actual shape was unusual, with enchanted fruit trees lining the front of the house.

Ron jumped at the opportunity to ring the doorbell, and it took next to a minute for Mr Lovegood to finally answer the door. He looked dishevelled, still dressed in dirty pyjamas and he didn't look like he had washed in days. The man didn't recognise any of them, and he seemed to stiffen when Harry _re_ introduced himself.

"Where's Luna?" Hermione asked, as they settled in the tight living room, with warm cups of tea.

Mr Lovegood looked down at his hands before he answered, sounding utterly defeated. "She'll be along."

That was good enough for both Ron and Hermione, as Harry used the opportunity to bring up the reason they really were there. He got to the point quite quickly, asking Mr Lovegood about the symbol he was wearing around his neck.

The answer seemed very simple to the man. "Why, it's the sign of the Deathly Hallows, of course," he explained.

"The what?" Hermione queried.

He took a breath before he mentioned the seemingly well-known story of the Three Brothers. Hermione had told Harry of the story once before, and he just managed to recall what had happened in the tale. The three brothers in the story had managed to evade Death, who then felt cheated. Death proceeded to grant each brother with a gift of congratulations, even if he had ulterior motives.

One brother asked for a wand more powerful than any ever created; another asked for what Harry now knew to be the Resurrection Stone from his first year at Hogwarts, and the final brother asked for a path past death; hence, the Cloak of Invisibility. The first two brothers went away, drunk with power and self-worth until a point where Death eventually claimed them both. The third brother, however, continued to evade Death until he reached old age.

 _He then greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, departing this life as equals._

Harry remembered the words resonating with him at the time, but he was sure that he wouldn't fully understand them until the time came for the prophesy to be fulfilled.

"So there you are," Mr Lovegood said. "Those are the Deathly Hallows." He proceeded to draw the symbol once more on a piece of parchment, detailing where the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility fit perfectly into the triangular symbol. "Together they make the Deathly Hallows. Together they make one Master of Death."

Hermione felt uneasy with that piece of information. She sneaked a look at Harry who appeared deep in thought about something or the other. It was Ron who nudged her with his knee, leaning in to whisper to her. "Now that we've got what we came for, can we get out of here? Something doesn't feel right."

Hermione had to agree. Where was Luna?

"Harry," Hermione sounded, getting his attention. "We should probably get going," she suggested, meeting his gaze and having an entire conversation with him.

Ron had never been more relieved by their strange wavelength as he watched them communicate in silence.

Eventually, Harry nodded, as he rose to his feet. As he stood, Mr Lovegood jumped up, bringing Ron and Hermione to their feet as well.

"No," Mr Lovegood bellowed, his hands rushing to Harry's shoulders and forcing him back down. "You can't leave." He sounded hurried, panicked, even a bit ashamed.

The trio remained calm, even though the older many was near hysterical.

"No. You have to stay," he said, shaking his head vigourously. "You're my only hope."

The realisation hit Harry first, and he was glad he was sitting down for it. "Luna," he whispered.

Hermione voiced the question. "Where is Luna, Mr Lovegood?"

His eyes snapped towards her. "Luna. My Luna," he almost sang. "They were angry, you see, with what I was writing about you; about them. So they took her."

At the sound of his words, Ron's blatant lack of reaction surprised himself. He felt a bit numb. Surely this wasn't happening. It was some sick joke. _They_ did not have Luna.

"They took my Luna," Mr Lovegood continued. "They took her." His eyes settled on Harry, his voice turning darker. "But it's really you they want."

Harry rose and moved away from him, closer to Hermione, almost shielding her.

"Who took her?" Ron managed to ask, discovering that his voice was working again. "Who took her?"

Mr Lovegood looked at the red-headed boy, knowing full well what he was about to say would draw the Death Eaters in. "Voldemort."

Everything happened so quickly once the ambush commenced. Harry just caught the sound of Mr Lovegood's apology before the first Curse hit the house, shattering a window. Harry dropped to the ground, pulling Hermione down with him. Windows continued to shatter, and glass flew over their heads as Harry instructed Hermione to crawl towards Ron, who had thankfully also hit the deck. At that point, reaching for their wands was useless.

"They'll destroy the whole house with us in it," Ron yelled as he shuffled on his arms and knees towards them. "We can't hit them if we can't see 'em!" Once his friends were within reach, Ron put out his hand. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm about ready to get out of here."

Harry smiled for a moment, before he was sucked through a tube, reappearing somewhere where the destruction of the Lovegood home was just a memory. The silence was almost too much to bear as he dropped to his knees on the dirty ground.

"Luna," Ron muttered as he headed off towards a tree. "That snivelling, dirty worm! That treacherous, filthy git," he grunted, casting a Jinx at an unsuspecting tree.

Hermione moved to calm him down. "He was desperate," she tried to make him see reason. "They took her because he supported Harry. What would you have done in his position?"

Ron considered her stance, but he didn't agree with it. "He could have told us. Is there no one we can trust? Didn't he think he could trust us? And, really, did he think that old Voldy would really let her go once he got a hold of Harry? If Harry dies, he wins, and the rest of the Wizarding World as we know it is over."

"You're just angry."

"You're damn right I'm angry," he huffed. Then: "I think I just need a minute. I'll do the enchantments."

Hermione just watched as he headed off, raising his wand and muttering something she couldn't hear. Eventually, she headed back to Harry, who was still kneeling on the ground, his eyes staring at the ground in front of him. "Hey, Potter," she said, moving to kneel right in front of him. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Before Harry could even begin to say anything, Ron returned, looking worried. He held a finger over his lips to keep them quiet. "I managed to get the wards up in time," he whispered once he was close enough. "But we've got some visitors."

Harry and Hermione climbed to their feet to see what he was talking about. Indeed, there was a group of Snatchers hovering a few metres away, clearly believing they were on to something. Hermione gasped silently, burying her face in Harry's back.

"Stay quiet," Ron said softly, as he moved to stand beside Harry. Then: "Hermione, where are we?"

Hermione didn't have to think about it. "The Forest of Dean."

"It's no longer safe here," Harry said softly, turning and taking a step away, his two friends moving with him. "We have to go before they find us and alert Voldemort."

It was like an alarm going off in his head. As soon as the word came out, Harry reached for both of them, adamant on Apparating out of there, but the sudden stunning spell that hit him square in the back and flinging Ron and Hermione away stopped him. It dropped him to his knees and Hermione screamed.

That was when the yelling started. "Get them!" someone yelled.

"Go," Harry shouted for his friends to run, and he gingerly scrambled to his feet. With that, they were all on the run, mazing through the trees of the forest, trying to get away from the running feet behind them. "Go," Harry urged, making sure that he always stayed behind them even if his legs could carry him faster. When Ron split to the left, Harry knew they was no chance of Apparition now, not with the chasers so close. Hermione seemed to reach this conclusion as well, with Curses flying at them.

The two of them managed to evade the Snatchers just long enough for Hermione to reach a decision. With the gang closing in, she came to a sudden halt and turned to Harry. "I'm sorry, and I love you," she said strongly, a look of determination framing her face. She raised her wand, pointed it right at him, and shot a Jinx straight at his face, knocking him to the ground and making him pass out.

* * *

Harry woke up in a cellar. When his eyes opened, he was met with the face of a very pale girl with blond - almost white - hair.

"Luna," he croaked, forcing himself to sit up. He had a look around. He wasn't alone. Beside Luna, there was a goblin Harry vaguely recognised, Garrick Ollivander, Dean Thomas and Ron, who stood at a locked gate, where stairs led up somewhere. "Where are we? What happened?"

At the sound of his friend's voice, Ron turned around. "You're up," he exclaimed. "Now I can beat the living hell out of you," he almost yelled. "The name's Taboo! I told you, Harry. I told you we couldn't say it anymore."

Harry felt that guilt beat at him, but he had to force it aside, still trying to get his bearings. "Where's Hermione?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet.

Ron and Luna exchanged a look that Harry didn't miss.

"Ron, where is Hermione?"

Ron swallowed. "Look, mate, when the Snatchers caught up to us, you had already passed out. Your face, it's still unrecognisable, but Hermione's, well, her face was in the paper, stating that she was linked to you." He paused to let that sink in, merely aggravating Harry's guilt. "They would have taken us to the Ministry but they're all greedy bastards," he spat.

"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked again, his voice getting smaller.

"They brought us to Malfoy Manor," he said, ignoring the question. "They asked Draco to identify you, but he wasn't able to. Or he wouldn't, because Hermione and I are totally identifiable. They wanted clarification before they called You-Know-Who," he explained. "But then Bellatrix arrived."

Harry actually stopped breathing at that news. "Hermione. Get to Hermione."

"Bellatrix spotted the Sword as part of our things," he continued. "The Snatchers told her they'd found it in Hermione's bag, and she wanted to know how we had got it, because it's supposed to be locked up in her vault at Gringotts, as Snape had instructed her to do so. Hermione told her it was a fake, but the witch didn't believe her. She told them to hold off on calling for You-Know-Who because she didn't believe her." Ron's voice caught. "I tried to stop her, I swear. I told her to take me instead, but Bellatrix wanted Hermione. She's been interrogating her ever since."

Harry's eyes widened. "How long ago was that?"

Ron needn't have answered. That was when they heard it. The very first cry of pain travelled from somewhere upstairs down into the cellar, piercing Harry's heart.

"No," he screamed, rushing to the gate and trying with all his might to pull it open. The screams only increased from above, as Harry fought with the gate. "No, stop!" he yelled. He turned to Ron. "She's using the Crutiatus Curse on her," he hurried. "I have to do something. I have to. I have to tell them it's me."

"No!" Ron and Luna said in unison.

"Hermione wouldn't want that and you know it," Ron added.

The screaming only got worse. Harry put his hands over his ears, trying to block it out; trying to find a way to get to her. There had to be a way out. He tried the gate again, banged on the walls. He even tried to Apparate without a wand. Nothing worked.

Harry dropped to his knees at the gate, sobbing. He could hear her. He could hear in her screams that she wanted to call his name but she was too strong not to. Even when she was being tortured, she was protecting him. "Please make it stop," he practically begged. "Stop, please." He shook the gate once more, dishevelling the broken piece of Sirius' two-way mirror and making it fall out of his trouser pocket.

"What's that, Harry?" Luna asked. "It's very curious."

Harry immediately picked up the piece of mirror and stared into it, hoping for something, anything. "Help us! We're in the cellar of Malfoy Manor," he pleaded. "Help us!"

In that moment, footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. "You," Draco shouted, pointing his wand past Harry at the goblin. "Come. Now."

Griphook shuffled towards the gate. As he passed by Harry, the wizard, begged him to tell them it was a fake.

"Shut it!" Draco yelled. "Step back. Get out of the way," he spat out, as he opened the gate, and the goblin moved through.

Ron shouted insults at Draco as he disappeared up the stairs, the screaming from upstairs having died down to a whimper. As soon as Draco and Griphook were out of sight, a sudden pop caught their attention.

"Dobby?" Harry said, having to blink a few times. "What are you doing here?"

Dobby turned to the wizard. "Dobby has come to rescue Harry Potter, of course. Dobby will always be there for Harry Potter."

Ron stared at the elf. "Are you saying you can Apparate in and out of this room? Could you take us with you?"

"Of course," he said, as if Ron had asked the stupidest questions around. "I'm an elf."

"Right," Harry said, clearing his throat. "Dobby, I need you to take Luna, Dean and Mr Ollivander to..."

Ron cut in. "Shell Cottage. Trust me."

Dobby nodded once, before he gathered his companions. He gave Harry one last look before they disappeared with another pop. Harry allowed himself to believe that they might actually pull through, which resulted in an untimely assault from Voldemort's thoughts. He staggered back until he came to kneel against a wall, trying to compose himself.

Harry witnessed Voldemort interrogate an elderly Grindelwald incessantly, desperately. He wanted answers regarding the Elder Wand. The Elder Wand. Dumbledore. The flashing green light. Harry's mind was bombarded with images, right until Dobby reappeared, this pop much louder than before. The entire Manor seemed to fall into silence.

"What was that?" Bellatrix screamed. "Pettigrew. Go."

Harry pulled Dobby to one side of the gate, hiding them, while Ron moved to the other side. Seeing no one in the cellar, Pettigrew opened the gate, his wand held out with his human hand. Harry might have pitied him on any other day, but today was not that day. Not with Hermione still upstairs at the mercy of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry tackled the man and Ron managed to get his wand, before getting flung away. Pettigrew got the better of Harry and started to strangle him, hatred running through his veins. Harry met his gaze, reminding him who he actually was. Pettigrew was forced to remember that Harry had once saved his life, which made him release his grip on the boy. In that moment of defiance against Voldemort, a new course was set for Pettigrew. As he removed himself from Harry, his silver hand shot to his own neck, beginning to strangle him.

"No," Harry said, rushing towards the breathless man. "Ron, help me stop it," Harry hurried, trying to break the man's grip on himself. The two boys tried and failed to save Pettigrew's life, leaving Harry feeling quite empty for a moment.

"Hermione!" Ron said, as they stood over Pettigrew's body. "We have to get Hermione."

Harry didn't need any reminding as he and Ron followed Dobby out of the now open cellar gate. They climbed the stairs tentatively, coming to a halt at the peak. Harry peered into what looked like a drawing room. He spotted Hermione lying on the floor on the other end of the room, seemingly unconscious.

Bellatrix was dancing around her, almost singing of how she intended to end her life, now that Griphook had deemed the Sword a fake. When she raised her wand and pointed it to Hermione; the boys acted.

Ron disarmed Bellatrix, while Harry stunned Lucius Malfoy. A battle commenced between the boys and Draco and his mother, Narcissa, right until Bellatrix moved into view with a knife held against a limp Hermione's neck.

"That's right," Bellatrix said. "Stop, or she dies. Drop your wands. That's right. Drop them. Drop them now, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a perilous look as they eventually dropped their wands. There was a long moment as both sides stared each other down. Somehow, Harry had to get to Hermione. That was all he was thinking about.

"Call for him," Bellatrix instructed but, before any of them could move, the chandelier above Bellatrix started to move. She looked up in horror as it started to come down. On instinct, she threw Hermione forward and stepped back out of the way of the shattering glass.

Harry just managed to grab hold of Hermione as she stumbled forward, everyone else ducking for cover. "Take her," he told Ron. "Get her out of here, now!" Harry watched to make sure the two most important people in his life had safely Disapparated, before he gathered any wand, and stunned an oncoming Death Eater. Voldemort was not going to be joining this party. Or, when he did, Harry would be long gone.

Harry reached for Griphook, who had hold of the Sword and a few of their other possessions. Dobby joined them in a corner, just as Bellatrix's voice bellowed once more.

"You could have killed me!"

It was directed at Dobby.

Before the elf could say anything, Harry turned to him. "Get us out of here."

Dobby touched his shoulder and, just as he was sucked once more into the horribly familiar sensation of Apparation, he caught sight of a deadly glint heading straight towards them.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

"Let's take a walk," Hermione instructed, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think we both need it."

Harry didn't say anything as he rose to his feet and followed Hermione out of the cottage. Shell Cottage, as it turned out, was the home of newlyweds, Bill and Fleur Weasley. After the skirmish at Malfoy Manor, they definitely all needed somewhere safe with people they could trust. it also helped that where they were was beautiful. Harry hadn't visited many beaches, if any. And the sea was magnificent to him.

Of course, the young newly-wedded couple had questions upon questions for the trio upon their arrival, but none seemed too keen on saying anything. In fact, Harry was quite certain he never wanted to utter another word again, if speaking would cause such harm.

 _Dobby is happy to be with his friend... Harry... Potter..._

Harry continually replayed Dobby's last words to him. The glint during the Apparition out of Malfoy Manor turned out to be a knife. Bellatrix's knife. A knife that was aimed perfectly at Dobby's little frame. Harry's glee at actually managing to escape had quickly been crippled by the sight of his beloved house-elf clutching at the knife in his chest. Dobby had died, right there on the beach, held in Harry's arms. He'd begged for help, and Dobby had come to save him.

Harry hated that his thank you was death.

On Harry and Hermione's way out of the house, they didn't pass anyone, which was a relief to Harry. He suspected that everyone wanted to be alone, especially after they had finally bid farewell to the elf who Harry had buried with his own hands, without magic. Harry had managed to ignore everything else while he dug, including Voldemort's clear outrage at the fact that they had actually escaped bombarding his mind.

They walked for quite a while along the beach before Hermione finally spoke, coming to a stop right by the water's edge.

"I'm sorry again about Dobby," she said softly, sneaking a look at the blank look on his face. "You said some wonderful things."

"I'm used to it by now," he muttered.

The ice in his tone was worrying. The emotion was gone, and she knew what he was thinking. "I told you that I'm fine, Harry," she said, her voice calm and steady. "Fleur healed me right up. I promise that I'm fine. What happened isn't your fault."

"But it is," he countered, his voice still ice cold. "They found us because of me. Bellatrix hurt you the way she did, because of me. I did that. So it is my fault. It's always going to be my fault. Everyone around me eventually gets hurt."

She waited a while before she spoke, having to choose her words carefully. "Dobby knew what he was doing," she said softly. "He knew, Harry, so you can't be angry with him."

"But I am," he said, just managing to keep the tears out of his voice. "He promised me. He promised he wouldn't try to save me; and now he's dead. He's dead, Hermione. I can't have anyone else die. Don't you get that? Why does everyone keep dying?" He was crying by now, the anger dissipating into tears quite quickly. "Why, Hermione?" he asked turning to look at her. "You have all the answers. Tell me what it is about me that makes people die. Because it has to be me. They keep dying. And I'm the link."

She put a hand on his arm. "You're wrong about that. You're not the link, Harry. He is. You-Know-Who is the link, not you. You're just the one who is inexplicably linked to _him_ by that ridiculous prophecy."

There was nothing he could say to that. She was right, of course. When wasn't she?

"But now you're linked to me," Harry said, more to himself. Then, clearer: "You have to go." He nodded his head in agreement with his own words. "Yes. That's what has to happen. You have to go. Go home; go be with your parents. Stay hidden, stay safe."

She was about to say something, but she stopped quite suddenly. Telling him that she couldn't actually go home was not an option right now. So, instead, she said, "I'm not going anywhere, Harry. I know what I signed up for."

"How can you?" he asked rather incredulously. " _I_ don't even know what I signed us up for. _I_ still have no clue. The only person who knows is Dumbledore and he's dead! So, no, you don't get to say you know what you signed up for. Because I'm the only one who Dumbledore signed up to die."

Hermione just stared at him.

"So you have to go," he let her know. "I need you to go somewhere safe. I need you get away from me before you become the next person to die. I'd never be able to live with myself if anything ever happened to you. I've already seen you stop breathing, and heard you cry out in unbearable pain. I can't handle it. And I know how selfish that is, but I don't really care right now. So you need to go to your parents and be safe."

"I can't," she said softly, worryingly.

He frowned. "What?"

"I said that I can't go to my parents, Harry," she clarified. "I'm unable to."

"Well, why not?"

"Because I have no idea where they are," she finally admitted. "Okay, so I suspect they must be somewhere in Australia but I wouldn't know where."

Harry was still frowning, heavily. "What are they doing in Australia?"

She took a deep breath. "I sent them somewhere safe, far away from the war, which was actually a good idea now that You-Know-Who knows that Ron and I are with you."

"But your parents wouldn't just leave you," Harry said, certain of that. "They wouldn't."

The guilty look on her face told him all he needed to know.

"Hermione, what did you do?" he asked.

She didn't reply.

His frown deepened. "What did you do, Hermione? What did you do?"

"I chose to keep them safe, Harry. I wiped their memories of me. That's what I did. That's all I did."

Harry just stared at her. "That's all you did?" he asked, his eyes widening. "This is what the locket was talking about, isn't it? I didn't understand it at first, but now I do. Hermione, why would you do that? Why would you choose this? You could have gone with them, stayed safe. This is not what I wanted for you."

"I don't care," she said hotly. "I told you I'll always go with you, Harry! 'Til the very end. There was no choice in that regard. I do know exactly what I signed up for, because I signed up for you. I chose you."

Harry couldn't help himself. He had to smile at the thought that came to his mind. He was annoyed that he did and, as desperately as he wanted to mention it, he pressed his lips together to stop himself.

Hermione read it on his face. "Go on then. Say it."

He shook his head. "It's okay."

"Just say it."

"Because I'm the Chosen One." He laughed for a moment, and then it disappeared, all the humour going with it. This was serious. "I never would have asked you to do that."

"I know."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked curiously.

Hermione considered her response again. This was a Harry she had to tread lightly around. It was as if he was just holding on to himself, having faced so much already. She had to make sure she didn't say anything to make him unravel. He needed a few days to recover from his latest loss. "You already believe that everything that happens in the world is your fault; why on earth would I want to add to your guilt? You wouldn't believe me if I told you that this is not on you. This was my decision."

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

Hermione reached for him, grabbing hold of the fabric of his shirt. "What I believe Harry is that we are doing something important. There are always going to be risks. I know that. We all know that, and I know that you're not wanting to send me away for nothing. You're so hell spent on keeping me out of danger, mainly because that's exactly our next move, isn't it?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Honestly, how is it that you know me so well?"

Hermione managed a smile. "I think I'm thinking the same thing," she admitted. "After our talk with Ollivander this morning, I suspect that You-Know-Who is looking for the Elder Wand."

"He knows Dumbledore had it."

Hermione nodded. "So he would probably go to Dumbledore's tomb to retrieve it. At Hogwarts." She took a breath. "But I don't think that the Deathly Hallows are our concern right now."

"The Horcruxes are," he agreed.

"Which brings us to my idea..."

* * *

Ron stared at his two best friends like they had properly lost their minds. Well, after what they had just told him; he was convinced that they actually were. "You want to what?" he asked incredulously.

"Hear us out," Hermione began, directing her words at Ron, even though Bill, Fleur, Luna and Dean were in the living room. "Bellatrix was terrified when she was interrogating me. She was desperate to know if we had broken into her vault. She was literally beside herself."

Harry continued. "But why? She had to think that we had seen something else, or that the Sword wasn't all we had taken; something she was petrified You-Know-Who would find out about."

Ron took a deep breath. "So, basically, you want to break into Gringotts - the most secure bank in the entire world - and get into the Lestrange's vault, which is probably really powerfully protected, all because of the way Bellatrix was acting about the Sword? You're saying that there's a Horcrux in the Lestrange's vault? Is that what you're saying?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look.

"That's exactly what we're saying," they said in unison.

"And how exactly do you intend to do that?" Ron asked. "I mean, I get that you want to break in, but I don't exactly see how you expect to do that."

Hermione took her time explaining the plan, trying to be as succinct as possible.

"You do know you sound mental, right?" Ron said. "I'm not the only one who thinks that, I'm sure." He looked around the room, searching the faces of those around them. He was quite sure none of their expressions mirrored his. "Seriously?"

He was met with silence.

"Seriously?"

"I'm well aware that it sounds completely mental," Harry said; "but I honestly don't see any other way."

Ron leaned back on the couch. Luna was sitting on his left, closer than usual. "Okay. Okay, I see that there probably isn't any other way, but you're forgetting something really important. There is no way Griphook would agree to betraying his own goblins."

Harry and Hermione exchanged another look.

"We're going to have to convince him somehow," Hermione said to Ron. "And we're going to need _your_ help."

It took some convincing to get the goblin, Griphook, to agree to participate in their plan. Harry had to divulge that the Sword of Gryffindor had presented itself to them in a time of need. And Griphook had mentioned that the Sword in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault was indeed a fake, sent to be locked away by Snape.

"Snape?" Harry asked, as the trio stood in the room Griphook was using to recover.

"Why would he do that?" Hermione asked.

"He's always been a curious one, that one," Ron muttered from his position behind Harry and Hermione. "I don't think this is the time to be discussing Professor Snape and his strangeness."

When Harry brought up breaking into Gringotts, Griphook actually laughed. "It is impossible. It is entirely impossible."

"Maybe," Harry said.

"You have no chance. No chance at all."

"That's probably true," Harry agreed. "But with you, it is possible. You can get us into the bank, and into the vault."

Griphook seemed to consider that. "What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?" Harry asked.

The goblin waited while he thought of it. His beady eyes drifted towards the Sword perched behind the trio. "I want that," he said. "I want the Sword."

It was Ron who replied. "You can't have that."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said.

"The sword's ours," Ron continued. "We're Gryffindors. It belonged to Godric Gryffindor."

"Who stole it," Griphook said. "I will not help without a promise of the Sword."

They bargained for up to five minutes and Harry vaguely remembered reading something about goblins and their concepts of ownership. Wait, maybe he hadn't read it himself. Hermione had read it to him. Reluctantly, Harry had to agree to Griphook's ultimatum. He knew Ron and Hermione would question him about it but he would only hand the Sword over after he destroyed the Horcrux. Then they would be one step closer to defeating Voldemort.

It took the trio a few days at Shell Cottage to come up with a plan of action. Hermione would only go through with it if she knew what was going to happen every step of the way. Both Ron and Harry had to remind her that no matter how much they planned; it very rarely worked out that way.

For the plan, Hermione required a batch of Polyjuice Potion, of which Fleur had quite a bit. There was a strand of Bellatrix's hair on Hermione's jumper; she was certain of it. Before Hermione drank the vile potion, she pulled Harry aside.

"What? What's wrong? Are you having second thoughts?" he asked, reading her facial expression to be panicked.

"No, no, it's not that," she assured him, taking hold of his hands. "I just," she hesitated. "Are you still going to love me if I can't pull this off?"

Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling. "I suspect you want me to reassure you, Hermione, but the truth is that, if you can't pull this off; we're all going to end up dead."

She glared at him. "That really doesn't help."

He was still smiling. "Anything I say would be totally cliche. Just know that we all believe in you, and of course I would still love you. No matter what."

"You're right. It really is cliched."

He laughed. "And as soon as you're Bellatrix, you can make all the nasty remarks you could possibly dream of about it."

"I look forward to it."

He watched as she disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door. For a moment, he felt panicked. Were they really about to do this?

Ron's arrival at the door stopped Harry's growing panic. Once Ron had accepted the plan as it was, it made it easier for Harry to think about sending Hermione into Gringotts as Bellatrix Lestrange without breaking into hives.

"I don't like this," Ron said as they waited for Hermione to emerge from the bathroom. They stood right by the door, both of them itching with reserved excitement at what was about to happen. "I don't like this one bit."

"I don't either," Harry assured him. "But there's no other way to get in, and we all know it."

"But she's literally about to become the witch that tortured her, and, I mean, look at me, Harry," he said hotly, gesturing at his altered features. Hermione had worked her magic on him, disguising him as someone entirely different. "I look hideous."

"Well, that's a step up then, isn't it?" Harry joked.

Ron nudged him with his elbow while they waited. "No wonder Hermione calls you the worst."

Harry just laughed. "And plus, Hermione'll only look like her; not actually be her," he said, trying to convince himself more than anything.

Before Ron could respond, the bathroom door swung open. "You do both realise that I can hear you, right?"

At the sight of Bellatrix speaking in Hermione's voice, Harry actually shuddered. "How do I look?" she asked.

"Hideous," Ron replied.

"Good," she said, stepping out of the bathroom. "Now, shall we?"

The trio met with Griphook a few feet from Dobby's grave. Harry didn't want to feel like they were walking into their own deaths but he couldn't help it. So much could go wrong with their plan. In fact, _everything_ could go wrong, and it probably would. But there was no turning back now.

"Remember, Hermione," Ron said before they Apparated to Diagon Alley. "You have to be a convincing Bellatrix."

"Don't be too polite either," Harry said.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I think I can handle it. I'll just pretend I'm talking to the two of you."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Harry wouldn't call the exploits at Gringotts particularly successful. True, they had managed to find and retrieve the Horcrux from the Lestrange Vault, but so many things had gone wrong. The goblins knew that Harry Potter and his friends had broken into  
the bank and the goblins knew that they had stolen something. Harry was certain the goblins would never forget. Especially since their escape had created so much damage to the bank. Harry would have to devise some way to pay them back if he survived  
in the end.

What also took away from their success was the fact that they no longer had any way to destroy the Horcrux. Harry should have expected Griphook to betray them. Well, he had, which was why he wasn't nearly as angry with the traitorous goblin as Ron clearly  
was.

"That rotten, back-stabbing, treacherous, little git," Ron said hotly, once Harry emerged from the water in which they had landed after their escape from the Bank, on the back of a dragon. Talk about memorable. "Honestly, first Mr Lovegood, and now that  
filthy Griphook; is there really nobody we can trust?"

Harry didn't respond as he dropped to his knees on the large stoned beach a few metres away from Ron. He was still trying to catch his breath, and the shivering wasn't helping.

Another massive failure from the mission was that Voldemort now knew that they were searching for and destroying the Horcruxes. Harry could feel his anger. It was so strong, threatening to spill through into Harry's own life. He was wary of snapping at  
either Ron or Hermione. Hermione!

Harry's eyes searched for the girl he knew to be somewhere on his left. She stood a few metres away, digging through her ever present bag. The girl never ceased to amaze him. Her idea to ride the dragon out of the bank had been brilliant, and life-saving.  
The amount of times they had found themselves in life-threatening situations had all but quadrupled just in the last few months. Would they really be able to live a normal life, ever?

"If I ever get my hands on him," Ron continued, squeezing some water out of the front of his t-shirt. "I don't even know what I'll do."

Harry looked at Ron. "Look, if our favourite Dark wizardfinds out he helped us; he's as good as dead anyway," he found himself saying, his tone rid of all emotion. He was merely stating a fact.

Ron didn't respond to that, as he moved towards Harry. Hermione joined them shortly after, beginning to hand out fresh clothes to both boys. Harry got to his feet to get changed. The dry clothes, unfortunately, did very little to warm him up.

"I'll start on a fire," Harry eventually said, drifting off further inland.

"I'll do the enchantments," Hermione offered, handing Ron her bag.

"I guess I'll handle the tent then," Ron muttered, only slightly annoyed. He was just thankful for something to do.

Their joint activities didn't last as long as Harry had hoped. He was dreading the next conversation the three of them were going to have, mainly because the question of what they were supposed to do next would surely be asked. Harry had no problem with  
the question itself; it was just that he was sure they wouldn't like his answer. Hell, he didn't even like his own answer. One would have thought walking into Gringotts would have been enough of a gamble. What he had planned could potentially be worse.

After they had warmed up to a point where Ron even removed his jacket, Harry knew it was time to broach the topic of their next move. They were sprawled out in the middle of the tent's common area, their unspoken need to be near one another hanging in  
the air.

"He knows," Harry began, knowing that they would know to whom he was referring. "He knows that we're looking for the Horcruxes. He knows that we've found some, and that we've destroyed them. He's angry, deathly angry. It feels like he's panicked, but  
not quite. I can't explain it."

Hermione kept her eyes on Harry, hating that he continually entertained this connection he had with Voldemort. Even she had to admit it sometimes proved to be useful, although it seemed as if all those Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape had amounted  
to nothing.

"What do you think he'll do now that he knows?" Ron asked.

"Retaliate somehow," Harry answered sadly. "It's a good thing your family has already gone into hiding."

"He'll protect the Horcruxes that he can," Hermione said, the talk of family making her insides twist. "Without drawing too much attention to their locations of course."

"The snake is one of them," Harry said. "I'm sure of it."

"That leaves us with one more," Ron said, which made Hermione uncomfortable. How certain could they all be that there really was only that one unidentified Horcrux left? "We've got Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, and I assume that you both already think that  
the last one is somehow linked to Ravenclaw, seeing as Slytherin has already been taken care of." He actually shuddered at the memory of the locket.

Harry and Hermione just looked at him.

Ron grinned. "See, I pay attention."

That made Hermione smile for the first time since they had landed in this new place. Truthfully, she had absolutely no idea where they were and she was much too exhausted to try to figure it out. She was perfectly content with the fact that they seemed  
to be somewhere safe. And warm. They would figure everything else out eventually. They usually did.

"We have to go to Hogwarts," Harry said.

Although it was their immediate reaction to protest the idea, Ron and Hermione said nothing. Whether they liked it or not, the Horcrux hunt was winding down. Or coming to ahead. Whichever way you looked at it; all roads eventually led to Hogwarts  
\- the place where it had all started.

"We should go tonight," Harry added.

That garnered a protest from Hermione. "What? No. We can't just waltz into Hogwarts, Harry. It's probably the most guarded place, especially now that He knows that's where we might go. We need to plan."

"No offence, Hermione," Ron said; "but when ever have any of our plans actually worked? Most of the time, the plan is us just making stuff up as we go along, hoping we don't get killed in the process. I don't know about you guys, but I can't help but  
think that it seems to be working out for us so far."

Hermione didn't look impressed. "Well, what do you honestly expect us to do?" she asked, sarcasm layering her tone. "Just apparate straight into Hogsmeade and hope it all works out?"

The boys exchanged a look.

Hermione let out a laugh in disbelief. "Idiots. I'm dealing with idiots. You know they'll catch us the second we set foot anywhere near there."

"Do you have a better idea?" Ron asked curiously.

She bit her bottom lip as she thought, leaving the boys in silent suspense. Then: "I admit that I don't have a better idea right now, but if I had a bit more time; I think I could come up with something."

Harry let out a long breath. "Fine," he eventually agreed. "We won't go tonight. But definitely tomorrow." His eyes drifted towards the Cup perched on the table behind Ron's head. "Even if we do get in and somehow find that Horcrux; none of it would mean  
anything if we can't destroy it."

"Don't worry, mate," Ron said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "We'll figure that out too. It's what we do."

"All this positivity," Harry said, shaking his head and grinning.

"Stop it," Hermione muttered, her own eyes glinting with amusement.

Ron just looked confused. "There you two go again with your annoying inside jokes. Way to make a fella feel left out, you know?"

"Sorry," Hermione said innocently. "But you'll see eventually," she added. "You and Luna are going to develop your own little inside jokes."

Ron blushed shamelessly at merely the mention of Luna, which made both Harry and Hermione laugh. There was nothing Ron could say to deflect their suspicions; not after what had happened at Shell Cottage. Ron wasn't even ashamed. It was nice to have _someone_.  
He missed that. It was nice to have Luna who, he now knew, understood him in a way nobody else had. Not Harry; not even Hermione. Luna.

Ron rolled off to bed first, his eyes drooping after the exertion of the day. Hermione was determined to stay up until she found another way to get into the most guarded castle in Britain. Harry could tell just how tired she was from her hands. They didn't  
move as swiftly through the pages of her various books as they usually did. Her mind may have been alert but her body wasn't complying. It would take a great deal of bravery from him to suggest she call it a night.

Good thing he was a Gryffindor.

"Hermione," he sounded from his position beside her at the table. He waited until she looked at him, which actually took a while. He had to phrase his next words carefully. "We've got a big day tomorrow," he said calmly. "We should get some rest."

"I know," she said, rather quickly, even returning her attention to the book she was reading. "You go on. I'll catch up."

Harry knew she wouldn't. In fact, if she had her way, she wouldn't ever go to sleep; not until all of this was over. "Let's go now," Harry said. "You need rest. We both do."

Hermione waited a beat before she looked at him again. "Do you realise what you're asking me to do, Harry?"

He frowned.

"Of course you don't." She closed her book and set it aside to give him her full attention. "You're asking me to allow us to walk into what could be an ambush tomorrow. Now, I was fully prepared to pretend to be Bellatrix and infiltrate Gringotts, but  
I cannot, with good conscience, let the three of us continue without a plan. We may as well hand ourselves over right now. If I don't figure something out, tonight; all that we've done until this point would be worthless."

Harry stared at her for a good minute before he finally spoke. "That's not why you don't want to go to sleep," he said, reading the look on her face. She was trying to mask what she was really feeling, which was something Harry wasn't used to. She very  
rarely tried to hide things from him. "Hermione, tell me what's wrong?"

She let out a long, tired breath. "Can't we just run away somewhere? We can go, Harry, and live somewhere and be safe and alive and happy."

He regarded her for a moment. "This is the second time you've suggested something like this," he pointed out. "You know as well as I do that, if we were to do that, wherever we were; we would maybe be safe and alive, but never happy. Tell me what's worrying  
you."

"All of it is worrying me, Harry," she snapped. Then, calmer, she said, "I have a theory about you and You-Know-Who that I desperately wish isn't true. I suspect you know what I'm talking about, because you've been talking about how you won't survive  
the war since before He even returned."

Harry swallowed.

"It's why you're convinced you won't be able to keep your promise not to die."

"I never made that promise, Hermione. I told you I would try my best not to. But you know as well as I do that a large part of everything that is going to happen once we're back at Hogwarts is going to be out of our control. Which is why planning the  
way you want to is futile. It's happening now. We can't just run away, no matter how scary the end seems."

"But I don't want you to die," she said sadly. "I mean, how am I supposed to accept that?"

"You're not. I would never want you to. If there's a way, we'll find it, but we can't run from it. Anyone could get hurt, Hermione. I think the past few months have proven that. In fact, the last few years have proven that. You could get hurt, Ron, the  
students at Hogwarts. Anyone from the Order. Nobody is safe. Least of all me. You know that I don't want anyone to die for me, so if I'm able to put a stop to it; you know I will."

She took a deep breath. "Because you're noble, and selfless, and I hate you for it."

Harry risked a smile. "This may or may not be the last time we get to have a conversation like this before we face our old friend. There are a few things I'd like to tell you."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And I thought you wanted us to go to bed."

"Well, you were being stubborn about it," he huffed. Then he smiled. "Do you or do you not want to hear what I have to say?"

"I don't want to hear it if you're saying it because you're expecting this to be some kind of a goodbye."

Harry thought about that for a moment. "Then I won't say anything."

The two of them sat in strained silence, as Hermione toyed with the idea of allowing him to speak. She had an idea of what he might want to say but she wasn't sure she was ready to hear his words. The day had been exhausting enough without pulling her  
emotions through the ringer.

Harry allowed the silence to go on for a few minutes before he cracked, choosing to say only two words. "Thank you."

Hermione could already feel tears prickling her eyes, desperate to escape. It was more out of tiredness, really. Her eyes wanted to close and stay closed for a good eight hours at least.

"I'd say the thank you is for all you've ever done to get me to this point, alive; but I know you won't hear it. So I'm saying thank you for every other moment. For a long time, Hermione, I was convinced I was undeserving of love, because of so many different  
things. I grew up without it, hated for merely the reason I existed. And then Hagrid told me I was a wizard. And my life filled with this beautiful magic and it was something that escaped from my wildest dreams.

"I'll be the first one to admit that you and I had a rocky start, but you must know we were always destined to be friends. And for a while, that was all we were, but on the deepest of levels. You don't face what we had faced together and not develop a  
level of understanding paramount to being essentially one person. Total soulmates."

Hermione let out a slight laugh.

Harry used his right hand to push an untamed lock of her hair behind her ear. "Then we found ourselves in quite a tight spot last year," he said, smiling at the memory. "Call it an eye-opener. I don't really care how it happened; I just care that it did.  
We found our way to each other the right way, and these have been some of the greatest months of my life. I don't say that lightly, Hermione, believe you me.

"The last thing I ever thought would happen to me is that I would find another human being that I could love so fiercely. And I have to thank you for that. If this is all I get in life, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I've been able to feel everything  
with you. And before any of it, I'd never truly understood how people had died for each other before, but now I know. I understand it now. I look at you and it all makes such perfect sense to me."

Hermione reached out to touch his cheek with her fingertips. "I love you, Harry."

He smirked, that all too familiar mischief glinting in his tired, green eyes. "Good, 'cause it'd be really awkward if I professed that I'd die for you and you didn't."

She shook her head. "You're the worst."

Harry looked into her eyes for a long while, getting lost in the chocolate brown. This was a moment he had to cherish; a moment he wouldn't allow himself to forget. Whatever they wanted to believe; the fact of the matter was that this was the end of things  
as they knew them. The second they entered Hogwarts, the final battle would begin. There wasn't a way of sneaking in. Once they were in, Harry was sure Voldemort would bring the war to him.

Harry had to be ready.

And for that, he would need some sleep. So, without another word, he rose to his feet. Hermione allowed him to pull her to her own without protest. It was time she accepted that things were going to happen, whether she liked it or not. It may or may not  
be the last night she spent with him. If that were the case, the _planning_ could wait.

Harry held her tight as they lay in bed, both their minds thinking about what was to come. Harry's own thoughts eventually drifted to that first night with Hermione in the Burrow, before the wedding, and before the commencement of the hunt. He remembered  
wanting to go at it all alone. How stupid of him.

Then again, Harry would be all alone when it came down to it in the end; when he made the final walk he was sure would come. It was only fitting, he thought as he drifted to sleep; everyone else who had tried to save him before was dead. Better he be  
alone.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: My sincerest apologies for the elapsed time without an update. I was wholly uninspired and then there were university protests, exams, I went on holiday and I had MAJOR laptop issues. I put the rest of the story into this chapter. I'm sorry if it doesn't live up to expectations.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

To Harry, it seemed that the initial battle lasted a lifetime. Only it didn't. One moment, they were entering the Room of Requirement, and the next, Voldemort's voice was booming all around the Castle. So many were dead. Too many.

Harry felt defeated, guilty, responsible. It was all his fault. All of it. His prophecy should not have caused so many deaths. So many. Harry had walked the halls as the survivors counted the dead. He had seen the Weasley clan cry over the lifeless body of their fallen son and brother. He had watched as Lupin and Tonks were laid side by side, and he had seen Colin Creevy, cold and motionless.

It felt too real; too true, and yet it was happening. The death toll was rising, and it would continue to rise so long as he was alive. It was that simple, really. And now, he supposed, inevitable.

In the midst of the mourning, Harry was able to slip out of the Great Hall and disappear to Dumbledore's office. Even though the great wizard hadn't accommodated it in almost a year; Harry would probably always consider it to be Dumbledore's. There was something he had to do. Something he supposed was very important.

Why else would Snape leave a tear drop in his final moments?

Harry was about to find out as he did the now all too familiar deed, searching for answers in the memories of those men already casualties of the ongoing war.  
It was something out of a dream when he eventually emerged, gasping for air as if had actually been holding his breath. Snape had loved his mother.

And hated his father.

But he had loved his mother, and that was enough of a revelation for Harry. Professor Snape had been trying to save him all along, working at Dumbledore's bidding. A double agent, of the sorts. Or triple.

Most importantly, Professor Snape had killed Dumbledore to ensure that Draco wouldn't have to. At Dumbledore's request.

Everything, at Dumbledore's request.

Dumbledore.

All this time, Harry had been a chess piece in his master plan to defeat yet another dark wizard. Harry just hadn't realised that there were so many pieces in play. So many pieces were to be sacrificed. Dumbledore had been one. Snape too. Now it was Harry's turn.

That had been the unspoken plan all along. For a moment, the anger Harry felt overwhelmed him. His entire life, he'd spent trying desperately to stay alive, just to walk to his death at a specific moment. He felt used and discardable. The major event - the death of his parents - that made him the Boy Who Lived was all so he could become the Boy Who Died.

Because that was what he was. Just a boy. He'd had to deal with so much in such a short life and now he was being asked to make the ultimate sacrifice: give up his life.

Well, no.

The ultimate sacrifice had nothing to do with his life. If the fact that his heart was still beating was the difference between defeating Voldemort and an entire Wizarding World of Darkness, he would walk into the Forbidden Forest and never look back. But it wasn't about that. It was about Hermione.

Harry dropped down onto a step in Dumbledore's office. It was cold beneath him, and strangely reassuring. Because now he had to die. It was that simple. The Horcrux that was within him had to be destroyed beyond repair, and only Voldemort could be the one to do it. He had to be. Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

Harry buried his face in his hands, feeling the seat, blood and grime from the battle on his skin. The battle that would surely end when he surrendered.

His mind drifted back to Hermione. He'd made an almost promise to her to try his best to stay alive and now he was about to accept his death. Well, from the moment he stepped into the halls of Hogwarts, he'd had to accept death. This was it. The end.

And he was alone.

Sure, Ron and Hermione were somewhere in the castle, dealing with the aftermath of the initial fight, but the truth really was that Harry was alone. He'd been alone for as long as he could remember and it was only fitting that he die alone.

The decision was made. It hadn't even been a decision. It was a truth Harry needed to accept. It was no longer something he just spoke about, or dropped into conversation. It was here. It was happening.

When Harry left Dumbledore's office, he was no longer angry. Something about walking out of his old Headmaster's space calmed him. The anger dissipated into thin air, leaving his mind clear. It was no use dwelling on how they had got here; just that they had.

Finally, Harry's life would amount to something. It wasn't what he had chosen but then he didn't ask to become the Chosen One.

He walked slowly, but assuredly. He felt calm knowing exactly what he had to do. For the first time during the entire Horcrux hunt, he felt sure. And he wasn't even scared of what had to be done.

What he was afraid of was Hermione. He was mad at himself for doing this to her. He was mad at both of them for doing this to each other. Because, in the back of his mind, he knew that she knew. She had always known, he was sure of it. The same way he kind of also had known. And yet they had done it. The unthinkable. They'd fallen in love and now this was the endgame that hurt his heart. It was the deep kind of love, the kind that left marks on you, whether it lasted or not. It was the type you never got over, or even attempted to forget. It was the type of love for which you died. It was the type of love for which you ran head first into battle. It was the type of love Harry and Hermione shared.

As he walked, he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that he was going to leave her behind. This was it. He would never see her again. He would never hear her laugh or see her smile or breathe her in or touch her skin or kiss her lips.

But she would be alive, and that was all he could have ever asked for. The fact that she survived would have made everything he had ever done worth it. Even die.

Harry reached the top of the main staircase of the Hogwarts' Castle and stopped to take it all in. So many had died. So much had been destroyed.

All to avoid the inevitable: his death.

All for nothing.

* * *

The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stood on end at the sound of footsteps behind where she and Ron were sitting on the main steps of the crumbling Hogwarts' Castle.  
She would know those footsteps anywhere and her heart skipped a beat when she recognised them. She practically jumped to her feet to face Harry, noticing the blank look on his face. She could tell he was fighting off all emotion. He'd made a decision and he didn't want to show her exactly what that was.

Ron got to his feet as well, breathing out a pained sigh of relief. He had already lost one brother. "There you are," he said, his voice unable to hide the fact that he had been crying. "Thought you went to the Forbidden Forest for a minute."

Harry pressed his lips together. He'd never intended on lying but he desperately wanted to.

Hermione finally read it on his face. "You're headed there now, aren't you?"

Harry didn't respond.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her heart starting to beat a mile a minute. No. No.

Ron frowned, stepping in front of him, blocking his route further down the stairs. "No ways, mate."

Harry was determined. It was written all over his face. "There's no other way," he said coldly, stepping to the side to try to continue his way down the stairs.

It was Hermione's voice that halted him mid-step. "Harry?" she croaked, the tears having already claimed her.

He'd hoped he could have walked to his death without having to look at her and admit that we couldn't keep his promise. But that was always going to be a stupid thought. He wouldn't have been able to do it without hearing her say that it was okay. He needed her to give him permission to die.

"But why?" Ron asked, cutting into the silence between Harry and Hermione. "We'll fight. We can win."

"But how many more people have to die, Ron?" Harry asked, more curiously than anything. He sounded defeated, accepting and it sucked the fight right out of all of them.

"We'll keep fighting," Ron still said, though weaker.

Harry swallowed. "I know why I'm the only one who can hear the Horcruxes," he explained, his eyes remaining on Ron. "I think I've always known." He looked at Hermione. "And so have you."

That was the moment she started to cry. "I hoped it wasn't true," she admitted. "I searched every known book to find a way to save you. I needed to save you. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be."

Both boys finally understood her certain desperation during the hunt. She'd barely slept for a year, and it was all to save him. He had to know it would have been about him.

"But it is," Harry said sadly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I have to go. Now."

Ron was about to say something more to convince his friend there was another way, but he couldn't. Instead, the Golden Trio stood in charged silence, staring at one another the same way they had all those months ago, when they decided to embark on the treacherous hunt in the first place. Slowly, each of them came to accept what was going to happen. Harry Potter was going to walk out of the Castle doors and never return.

After a moment more, Harry stepped forward and embraced his best friend. Ron squeezed tight, a sob threatening in his throat.

"Please forgive me for all of this one day," Harry whispered. "You definitely should have picked a different compartment on that first Hogwarts Express."

Ron let out a light laugh as he released his friend. "You're properly the worst," he said, stealing Hermione's famous line for Harry.

Harry dropped his voice. "Speaking of."

Ron just nodded. "I will. I promise."

In that moment, an understanding passed between the boys. The men.

Harry wasn't asking Ron to look out for Hermione. No. Hermione Granger was fierce enough to look out for herself. Harry just needed to know that Ron would make sure she would be okay; that she would move on and be happy; that she wouldn't end up like Snape. He didn't want her to have hate in her heart, and Ron understood that.

When Harry finally turned to Hermione, she was already looking at him.

"You promised," she said, her voice soft and emotionless. She wasn't even angry, which was worse.

"I know."

"You promised you wouldn't leave without me," she said. "That night at the Burrow; you promised."

Harry had no words for that. He thought she would refer to the other promise. Gosh, he'd even forgotten that he'd made two. Or more. He couldn't be sure. Had it even been a promise? Did it even matter? He still felt like he was failing her.

"I'll go with you, Harry," she said strongly, determinedly. "'Til the very end."

Oh how he wished he could take her with him. Hold her hand while he faced the end. It would have been easy to say yes; to die with her the way his parents had. But that wasn't in the script for him. Hermione should never have been a piece on the chessboard in the first place. Her only penance was falling in love with him.

"No, Hermione," Harry said. He looked at Ron, and told him something with his eyes.

Ron quietly moved to stand behind Hermione.

"I have to go alone," Harry continued. "Once I'm d-, once I'm gone, all that's left is the snake. Kill the snake and kill Voldemort. He'll be just a man then. As he was always meant to be."

Hermione said nothing.

"Tell me it's okay," Harry said. "Tell me I can go, Hermione."

Still, nothing.

"You have to say it."

When no response came, Harry stepped towards her. He wanted to hold her, but he could tell that she wouldn't let him. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, even as she stepped back and into Ron.

"I love you," he whispered. He nodded once, breathed her in and then he turned and started his descent. He had made it to the bottom of the steps when he first heard the struggle.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled. "Harry! No. We'll find another way. You don't have to do this! You don't have to be the hero. Harry! Ron, let me go. Let me go. I have to go with him." She started to sob, and Harry had to use all his willpower to keep walking. "He needs me," Hermione continued, sounding like she was beating at Ron as he held her in place. "I need him. He has to stay. He has to live! I need him! Let me go."

Her sobs were the last thing Harry heard as he put more and more distance between him and his two favourite people in the world.

The walk didn't take very long, mainly because Harry wasn't heading towards something, but rather away from something. So much death. It was all around him; it had followed him from the moment he was born.

Which was probably why he wasn't the least surprised that he was welcomed by all those he had lost: his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Mad Eye, Hedwig, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Colin and Dobby. But no Dumbledore.

And no Snape.

Harry found he was all right with that.

"Will you stay with me?" Harry found himself asking, aware that he sounded like a little boy.

"'Til the very end."

* * *

For the longest time, Ron was convinced that Hermione didn't even blink. Once she had stopped fighting against him, she had gone limp and silent. Ron set her down on the steps and sat beside her, waiting for her to say something, anything.

Hermione brought her knees up to her chest and clutched at them, as if she was desperately trying to hold herself together. Anything not to fall apart. Even though he was gone, Harry still needed her. She did not speak, her eyes wide and red in colour. She was pale, the shock she felt written all over her face. It didn't feel real.

She'd failed him.

They'd failed each other.

Even after the talk they had had, Hermione felt cheated. She thought she would be prepared for the goodbye, but she couldn't have predicted how raw she felt. She hadn't even told him that she loved him. She hadn't even told him that it was okay; that she would find a way to forgive him. She'd done exactly what she desperately didn't want to do: beg him to stay.

Ron and Hermione sat for what felt like decades, waiting. Just waiting. Hermione thought that she would feel the moment that Harry would cease to exist; she was convinced they were so inexplicably linked. They'd spent years learning all they could about each other; so much so that their friends commonly teased them that they were one person.

So, if Harry died, so would she.

Enough time passed for her to believe that Harry had met his end and the tears flowed without warning. If someone were to ask her why she was crying, she probably wouldn't say it was because she wouldn't see him again. It was something else; something so profound she didn't think she would be able to explain it if she tried.

Harry Potter was already famous for being the Boy Who Lived, and now he would go down in the History books as the boy who walked to his death.

She would have rather had him alive and be a nobody. She would have been content to fall in love with a nobody, if he were anything like Harry.

Hermione allowed herself to dwell in her morbid thoughts right until Neville appeared at the bottom of the steps. At that point, she had come to accept what had to happen. Whether it had already happened or was still to happen; Hermione Granger and her intellect understood that there was no other way.

"Someone's coming," Neville said to both Ron and Hermione; not mentioning that he found it strange that Harry wasn't with them. It didn't occur to him that Harry would have gone into the Forest. He wouldn't leave them to fight Voldemort on their own, would he?

Ron helped Hermione to her feet, even though he was sure she didn't need it. The look on her face told him that she was determined to see the through right to the very end.

There were no reservations now.

"Voldemort's come to gloat," she said, her voice void of all emotion. "He thinks he's won." The walked down the steps to meet up with the rest of the Hogwarts survivors. as a group, the proceeded out of the Castle doors to meet the enemy.

"He'll be his most vulnerable, now that he's ki…" Ron whispered to her, stopping quite abruptly.

"Now that he's killed another Horcrux," Hermione said, as if it was just a fact. Which it was. If she could consider Harry as a Horcrux, then she was convinced she could get through the rest of the battle. All they had to do was defeat Voldemort, make sure every death counted for something; and then she could mourn her loss; the world's loss.

"Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort's sickening voice rang out. He even did a little dance in his excitement. "Harry Potter is dead."

"No!"

Nobody was quite sure who said it, but everyone was thinking it. No. It couldn't be. Harry couldn't be dead. And yet, they could all see him, still, unmoving. Harry Potter was dead.

Hermione's knees almost buckled at the sight of Harry's limp body in Hagrid's arms. Her heart was beating extra fast, and she was certain she would have passed out if Ron wasn't holding her up. She could see Molly begin to cry, joined shortly after by Ginny. Nobody else mattered in that moment.

Luna risked a look in Hermione's direction and, from the sight of her friend's stricken face, she determined that it had to be true. Harry was dead.

Voldemort continued addressing those around him, his own army waiting for his next move. Now that Potter was gone, what was in store for them? True to form, Voldemort continued to trash Harry's name. Then he proceeded to the reason he had them all assembled: he invited those apposing him to join him.

And what followed would never be forgotten. As was prophesied, the darkest Lord to live was indeed vanquished by a power he knew not. Voldemort was steadfast to forget that, even though Harry lost so many who loved him, he was still loved. Deeply. Unconditionally.

And, as it had proven many times before, love was strongest of all.

* * *

As expected, the Burrow was unusually subdued. There were no dishes being cleaned or feet running across the floorboards and there was no motherly singing or sibling banter heard through the walls.

It was quiet. And Harry hated it.

Even three weeks after the battle had ended at Hogwarts, Harry couldn't get the picture of Fred Weasley's dead body out of his head. It made him doubt the nightmares would ever end.

He found himself in the main living room, alone, with his head buried in a book. If someone were to ask him what he was reading, he wouldn't be able to answer. He was merely staring at the typed words, feigning interest.

It was Hermione's arrival that made him look up. She looked unsure of herself as she stood in front of him, biting her bottom lip in anticipation of whatever she wanted to say.

Harry waited, drinking in the sight of his beautiful girlfriend. It was always a relief to him whenever his eyes settled on her. She was alive. And so was he. It was some kind of miracle. Somehow, Harry had managed to survive death twice. Well, no, far more times than that.

"Hi," Hermione eventually said, looking a bit unsure. The truth was that she wasn't sure how to act around him. Every time she saw him, her heart skipped beats at the fact that he was alive. Because, for several horrific moments, she had believed her Harry was dead. It wasn't something from where she could just come back.

"Hey," he replied softly.

"Do you want to take a walk?"

Harry responded by closing his book and rising to his feet. They eventually fell into step beside each other as they exited the house and strolled under the bright sunshine in silence.

It wasn't until they were substantially far from the Burrow that Hermione started to speak.

"There are things that I have to tell you, Harry," she said seriously, coming to a stop. "Important things about what I want from the rest of my life now that the war is over."

"Okay."

"It will probably be a lot to deal with at first, and of course I will understand if it's not what you want, but I need you to hear me out."

"Okay."

"And I need you to listen without interrupting."

Harry was about to say 'okay' again, but he stopped himself. He made a move to zip his lips, which made her smile.

"What am I ever going to do with you?"

"I've told you many times before, Miss Granger; you could always make me a kept man."

"Oh, I intend to."

Harry grinned. And then he stopped. The moment was over. "Okay, these things you want to tell me."

"So impatient."

"Well, I'm trying really hard not to freak out. I don't even know why I'm more afraid of what you're about to say than I was of facing Voldemort."

"Well, that's because you've never been afraid of facing death. You greet it as an old friend."

Harry swallowed. "Isn't that just the saddest thing you've ever heard?"

"It's surprising, isn't it? Some of my saddest moments, and my happiest, are all to do with you." She shook her head slightly. "I have to admit that you've made for a very exciting life, Harry Potter. But I would really appreciate it if you didn't put us in life-threatening situations anymore."

"I'll try my very best."

She was quiet for a while. Then: "Maybe we should find somewhere to sit."

If that wasn't warning enough for Harry, he didn't know what was. How much of this conversation wasn't he going to like?

They eventually settled under a tree, leaning their backs against the hard trunk. The sound of the flowing water faded into the background, as Harry awaited a conversation he was certain he wouldn't forget.

It took Hermione another minute to start speaking. "Remember: no interruptions," she reminded him.

He just nodded.

"I want to go to Australia," she admitted. "I have to. I need to find my parents, Harry. I don't know what it will be like to see them again, or if I'll even be able to retrieve their memories but it's something I have to do. I would, of course, like to leave as soon as possible, to spend as much time with them before the school year starts up again.

"Which brings me to the second thing I want: I want to return to Hogwarts and complete my last year. I want to write my N.E.W.T.S. and graduate and have all the options open to me. It's probably so stupid, but I think it's important that we finish. I've spent so many years studying endlessly, working towards those final exams and it would be such a waste not to take them.

"And plus, how am I expected to work in Magical Law without them? Which is the third thing I want. I want to work in magic, Harry. But I don't want to live in it."

He frowned, clearly not understanding what she was trying to say.

"I've grown up as a Muggle, using muggle items and doing Muggle things, and I'm convinced I haven't turned out half bad. I don't want to be so reliant on magic that I know nothing of the Muggle world. I don't want to be ashamed of where I've come from. Being Muggleborn has made me stronger and more assimilated with both worlds. It's what I want for myself and, possibly, my children one day. So I'd like to work in magic, but be able to come home, set my wand aside, reach for the remote and turn the television on.

"I'm fully aware that these things might not be what you want, and I fully accept whatever compromise we may or may not have to come to, but I just wanted you to know what I wanted. Which, incidentally, includes you in all of it."

Harry didn't say anything for a long time. It was gnawing at Hermione. She was biting on her bottom lip so hard that it was turning worryingly white.

"Okay," Harry eventually said.

Hermione frowned. "Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"What does that even mean?" she asked quickly.

"I want what you want," he said softly, meaningfully.

She shook her head. "No. That's not what you're supposed to say. I want you tell me what you want."

"I just did."

"No, Harry," she said, barely keeping the frustration from her tone. "You're alive. You now get to live this glorious life that I've always wanted for you. You get to fulfill your goals and dreams and grow to be the best person you could ever be. You get to want things and achieve them. So tell me what you want, seriously, and don't just tell me what you think I want to hear."

That was a tall order. The truth really was that Harry hadn't spent that long thinking about the future beyond Voldemort. It just hadn't occurred to him that he would survive. And now that he had, he had to think hard about what he wanted.

Hermione waited again in silence, watching his face so intently that she was convinced her gaze would eventually burn into his skin.

When Harry did finally start to speak, his voice was calm and steady. "What I want is you. That's about as simple as it gets for me. I do want you to go to Australia, Hermione. I was going to suggest it, at some point. I know what it's like to lose your parents, unwillingly, so I can only imagine how hard that was for you. I wouldn't want to impose on your trip, but if you want me with you, I will come." Harry thought of the Elder Wand kept hidden in the back of his trunk. The only reason he had kept it was for this precise reason. He knew that Hermione would have done anything to bring his parents back, and he would do the same. He just hoped they would be able to forgive her. And, he wished, him as well. "Of course we would have to be back before school starts. As fun as it would probably be to never go back to where we lost so many; it really would be a waste. Why limit ourselves when we could achieve so much? And plus, who else is going to drive Professor McGonagall crazy? Not that I think Ron would want to return. But then again, he might want to be near Luna, what with that whole thing blossoming and all."

Hermione pressed her lips together, stopping herself from commenting on her excitement for both Ron and Luna.

"Living as a Muggle doesn't sound so bad to me," Harry continued. "It's what I know, and you already know how important I think the safety in magic is. I wouldn't want to shield our children from it, but teach it to them in a way that makes them appreciate it."

Hermione's heart nearly exploded at his use of pronoun. _Our_ children.

"So, really, I do want what you want. Realise this, Hermione Granger, none of my supposed goals and dreams mean anything without you. I want to live these days with you. Everything I am is wrapped up in you and how you see me. I'm only as great as the person I am in your eyes. So you better believe that I want what you want, because I want you."

It took a great deal to render Hermione Granger speechless, but Harry Potter had just about managed it. His words had been the truth. She was his family through and through. It might have taken him a long time to see her for the wonderful, beautiful, perfect human being she was, but he was just glad that he had. Nothing would change that now.

They were together. He was hers through and through, and he wanted nothing less than to keep her happy for the rest of her days.

"Well," Harry prompted; "say something then."

Silence still followed as she fought to keep a hold of herself.

"Hermione?" he queried, starting to feel self-conscious. "Please say something."

"Do you really mean what you said?"

"Every word."

"I love you," she said quickly, rather excitedly.

He laughed lightly. "I love you too."

She leaned in to him. "I should warn you, Harry, that by agreeing to all of this, you have to know that you're practically agreeing to the rest of your life."

He was sure he hadn't heard more precious words in his entire life. "I'm well aware of that," he mumbled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Well, I'm pretty sure that I was the one who first told you that I'll always go with you."

She glared at him.

He gave her his trademark smirk. "What was it you said again, huh? Something along the lines of -"

She shut him up by kissing him. "'Til the very end."

* * *

AN: Thank you for all your patience. There may or may not be a third part. I've yet to decide. Thanks again.


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